"But maybe A and B are not the only ones interested. How about the conditions of the contest? Don't they require that each man shall do his best? Isn't it intended that the prize shall go to the one who really is the best?"
"Oh, well, in a manner, maybe," answered Neil. He was silent a moment. The ethics was more puzzling than ever. Then: "Of course, it's only a supposititious case, you understand, Syd," he assured him earnestly.
"Oh, of course," answered the other readily. "Hadn't we better turn here?"
The journey back was rather silent. Neil was struggling with his problem, and Sydney, too, seemed to have something on his mind. When the town came once more into view around a bend in the road Sydney interrupted Neil's thoughts.
"Say, Neil, I've got a--a confession to make." His cheeks were very red and he looked extremely embarrassed. Neil viewed him in surprise.
"A confession? You haven't murdered the Dean, have you?"
"No. It--it's something rather different. I don't believe that it will make any difference in our--our friendship, but--it might."
"It won't," said Neil. "Now, fire ahead."
"Well, you recollect the day you found me on the way from the field and pushed me back to college?"
"Of course. Your old ice-wagon had broken down and I--"