“Well, who knows anything about sailing among this crowd? Do you, Trevor?”
Trevor shook his head.
“Not a thing.”
“I do, of course,” interrupted Carl.
“Well,” said Stewart, “as far as I’m concerned I think I’d rather have some one else than you do it, Carl.”
“Oh, quit fooling; I’m in earnest. Suppose we go to Euston Point next Saturday and see what’s doing?”
“But, look here,” said Dick, “how do you know Faculty will let us sail the thing if we get it?”
“Why shouldn’t they? They allow skating; ice-yachting’s just skating—with a difference. Besides, as long as there’s no rule against it we have a right to do it.”
This argument was incontrovertible, and it was agreed that the four should journey to the near-by village of Euston Point the following Saturday morning. And then Stewart suddenly discovered that the apples on the hearth had been done for some time, and in the business that followed the subject of ice-yachting was forgotten.
When Dick and Trevor returned from supper that evening they found a fresh, inky-smelling number of The Hilltonian awaiting them in the letter-box. Dick hurried to the room with it and spread it out under the light on the table. Yes, Singer had been as good as his word; the leading editorial was headed The Rowing Situation, and was quite in Singer’s best style.