“I know he did,” replied Joe, who then went on to give a circumstantial account of the manner in which the fouling was done. The boys all declared that it was a very neat trick, and one of them added—
“That Tom Bigden’s cheek is something wonderful. As soon as he had backed out of Loren’s way and laid himself across the course so that we couldn’t get by him without losing more ground than we could possibly make up, he called out that he claimed foul on that. Did you ever hear of such impudence?”
“Please give me your attention for one moment, gentlemen,” shouted the president of the club; and Joe and his friends turned about to see the referee perched upon a dry-goods box.
“Young gentlemen,” said he, as the boys gathered around him, “the contestants in the paddle race will go over the course again this afternoon, one hour after lunch. They will be the same as before, with the exception of Frank Noble and Thomas Bigden, whom I am compelled to bar out. It is exceedingly unpleasant to me to be obliged to render this decision, but the rules under which your sports are conducted leave me no alternative.”
“What do you think of that, fellows?” said Arthur Hastings. “If Bigden isn’t satisfied now that he can’t run this club to suit his own ideas, I shall always think he ought to be.”
“Well, Noble,” said Prime. “You’re done for at last. You are ruled out of every thing. What are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do?” asked Frank in reply.
“I? Nothing at all. What can I do?”
“You can go home with me, can’t you?”
“Eh? Well—yes; I suppose I could, but I don’t want to. The fun is only just beginning.”