“And didn’t you promise that you would help us win?” chimed in Frank Noble.
“No, I didn’t. When you told me what your programme was, I simply said: ‘All right.’ By that I meant that you could do as you pleased, and my cousins and I would do as we pleased. You were very good to yourselves when you picked out all the best races for your own men, and left us out in the cold, were you not? We do not consider that we are under obligations to abide by any such arrangement, and we shan’t do it. We’ve got a programme of our own that we mean to carry out if we can, and the fellow who interferes with us in any way may make up his mind to take the consequences.”
So saying Tom walked off followed by his cousins, leaving Prime and his companions lost in wonder.
“Serves us just right for having any thing to do with such upstarts,” said Noble, who was the first to speak. “They have gone back on us fair and square; that’s easy enough to be seen.”
“Who ever heard of such impudence?” exclaimed Prime. “They came to Mount Airy with the idea that they could run the town to suit themselves, and because they can’t do it, they are mad about it. They must not be allowed to win a race. I would much rather see Wayring or Hastings come in first.”
“That brings me to what I wanted to say to you,” said Ned Stewart. “I don’t know whether or not that college man in the stake-boat suspects any thing, but he certainly acted like it. He kept his eyes on us from the time we crossed the line until we got home. If you try to foul any body you must be very sly about it, or else you will be caught and ruled out.”
If Stewart had any thing else to say he did not have time to say it, for just then the bugle sounded another warning, and that put a stop to the conversation. It was a call to the boys who were to take part in the paddle race. A few seconds later thirteen active young fellows in showy uniforms sprang off the wharf one after the other, shoved their canoes into the water, and paddled away to take the positions assigned them by the numbers they had drawn from the tin box. As luck would have it, Tom Bigden found himself near the center of the line, with his Cousin Loren on one side of him and Frank Noble on the other. Joe Wayring was on the right, nearest the shore, and Arthur Hastings on the extreme left, near the middle of the lake.
“It’s a bad outlook for us,” whispered Loren, after he had run his eye up and down the line. “Joe and Arthur are so far away that you can’t touch them.”
“Never mind,” replied Tom, in the same cautious whisper. “They will have to come closer together when we get to the stake-boat, and then, perhaps, we can do something. Keep your weather eye peeled for Noble. He’ll spoil your chances if he can. He’s bound to win or kick up a row.”
“Are you all ready?” shouted Mr. Hastings, from his place on the wharf.