“Eleven sharp, from the old bridge down the river.”
Johnny chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to see it,” he said.
That evening Jeffrey and Jim accompanied Gil and Poke to Plato Society. It was not a business meeting to-night and there were quite a few invited guests present. It was too cold to sit out of doors and so the social room was filled to its capacity. As usual, there was music and the evening passed very pleasantly. Both Jeffrey and Jim were introduced to a number of fellows they had not met before, and each had a very good time. Poke’s appearance was the signal for wild applause, and the others had a good deal of fun with him over to-morrow’s canoe race. Later on Gary came in, and he, too, was hailed with cheers, although as he had never been very popular with the other members of the society, his advent caused less of an ovation.
Gary had accepted his punishment with smiling indifference, and at first the school at large had been inclined to sympathize with him. But his attitude had soon changed that. No longer on the football team, and with no prospect of rejoining it this fall, he pretended a vast contempt for it and frequently predicted defeat in the Hawthorne game. For some unknown reason his resentment appeared to be against Duncan Sargent and Johnny Connell instead of Mr. Hanks or the Principal, and he was forever criticizing the former’s efforts at leadership and coaching. If he felt any anger against Mr. Hanks—and I am inclined to believe that he did not—he never betrayed it. Having learned his lesson, Gary was quick to profit by it, and no member of his classes was any more docile and well-behaved than he.
The Platonians tried to get Poke and Gary together that evening and have them talk on the subject of the race, but each fought shy of the other, although each seemed willing enough to talk about it when the other was out of hearing.
“He hasn’t the ghost of a show,” declared Gary. “I don’t know what his game is. I guess he just wants to make a sensation. Why, he never paddled a canoe in his life until the other day!”
“I don’t believe that,” said some one. “Who says so, Bull?”
“He told me so himself,” replied Gary. And it was a tribute to Poke’s veracity that no one suggested a doubt after that. Poke when baited waved a hand airily and shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m sorry for Bull,” he said with regret in his voice. “I suppose I shouldn’t have led him into it. But, after all, it’s just a little fun. He will get over his disappointment in time.”
His audience chuckled and winked.