Tom Bigden and the Farnsworth boys ran their eyes over the paper, and the only things they found in it that possessed any particular interest for them were the following:
“Portage race.—Paddle a quarter of a mile, carry canoe twenty-five yards over a stony point, re-embark and paddle back to starting point.
“Single paddling race.—Half a mile and return.
“Hurry-Skurry race.—Run ten yards, swim twenty-five yards, paddle three hundred yards.”
These were the ones, as we know, which Tom and his cousins had “booked” themselves to win. Then there were sailing races, tandem races, and boys and girls’ races; and the meet was to wind up with a greasy pole walk.
“You fellows must certainly enter for that,” said Sheldon. “You have no idea how much sport there is in it. Some of the Mount Airy people say that it is the best part of the performance.”
Tom replied that he did not know just what a greasy pole walk was, and reminded Sheldon that he and his cousins were not yet members of the club.
“But you will be members before the day set for the races, you may be sure of that,” said Joe. “I’ll propose you at the next meeting, and I know there will not be a dissenting vote.”
“I wish you could give us the same assurance in regard to the archery club,” said Tom.
“So do I, but I can’t,” answered Joe; and then, as if that were a subject that he could not talk about just at that time, he hastened to add: “I can soon tell you what a greasy pole walk is. Did you notice that high derrick built on the end of our pier? Well, a long, stout spar is run out from that derrick, and after being braced and guyed so securely that it will not sway about under any reasonable weight, it is thickly covered with slush to make it slippery. There is a prize of some sort at the outer end of it, and the boy who can walk along the pole and capture that prize before he falls off into the water, is the best fellow.”