“Here!” cried Jim, catching hold of him. “Where’s my ten dollars?”
“Pay you when I come back,” said Peter.
“You’ll pay me now,” said Jim, taking a firm grip on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ve earned my money and I want it.”
“There you go!” exclaimed Peter, throwing down a bill and wrenching himself free. Then he started up the hill after his rival.
But Larry had too good a start to be beaten now. Straight toward the tent he dashed, giving but one glance behind to see that Peter was far in the rear. All he needed to do, he knew, was to get his copy into the hands of the operator first. The rule of precedence would then prevail.
“There!” gasped Larry, a few minutes later, as, panting from his run, he dashed into the tent. “There’s some copy. Rush it!”
“Looks as if you’d been rushing it,” commented the man, with a glance at Larry. “Why, what in the world is the matter with it? It’s all wet.”
“I fell overboard,” said Larry. “But you can read it, can’t you?”
“I reckon so. Lucky it’s in pencil instead of ink. If it was ink, it would have run in the water.”
Fortunately Mr. Newton had used tough and heavy paper to write on, and Larry had folded the copy tightly and placed it inside a leather pocketbook, so that, though the sheets were pretty damp, their short immersion in the water had not harmed them.