“What do you mean by that?” demanded Tom.
“You know very well what he means,” exclaimed Bob Lord, who, it will be remembered, had been “booked” to win the upset race. “Now, look here, Bigden: You have been running with Wayring a good deal, of late, and we might have expected this of you. You want Wayring to win because you think he can do more to get you into the archery club than we can; but I assure you that you are mistaken there. You can’t get in without our votes, and if you go back on us we shan’t give them to you.”
“I don’t want Wayring to win,” said Tom, emphatically. “My Cousin Loren is going to come out at the top of the heap in this race.”
“Well, I’ll bet you a dollar he isn’t,” exclaimed Noble, whose flashing eyes showed how angry he was. “If I don’t win this race nobody shall.”
“Well, I’ll bet you two dollars that I shall keep pretty close to Loren, and that the boy who interferes with him purposely will go out of his canoe in less time than he can say ‘General Jackson’ with his mouth open. Not only that, but I’ll thrash him the very first time I can catch him ashore,” replied Tom, returning Noble’s angry scowl with interest, and doubling up his fists as if he were ready and willing to put his threat into execution then and there.
“Look here! Look here, boys,” whispered Prime, who was really afraid the two would come to blows. “Such work as this will never do. If we quarrel among ourselves, Wayring and his crowd will walk off with all the prizes as they have always done.”
“I have no intention of quarreling,” said Noble, who did not like the way Tom glared at him. “I only want Bigden to keep his promise.”
“What promise?” demanded Tom.
“Why, didn’t you say that you were down on Wayring and Hastings, and that you did not want to see them win any of the races?” inquired Scott.
“I did.”