Wayne read the note. “Friend Gordon,” it ran, “here are those balls of Cunningham’s. Some of them are not done very well. They were the first I tried, and didn’t mold so well as I’d like to have had them. I wish you’d not let him pay for them, because they’re not very good and you’ve helped me a lot.” (“Of course I’ll pay for them,” interrupted Don.) “I’ve remolded over forty balls so far, and have nearly twice that many to do yet. I thought you’d like to know how I was getting on. I sent some money home to-day and am going to pay you Saturday. I fixed Greene’s cleek, and I think it as good as new; and I have three more clubs to mend. If business keeps on increasing I’ll have to open a shop, I guess. Couldn’t find you, so write this instead. Yours, Gray. P. S.—Thank you.”
The last sentence was much underscored, and Wayne grinned as he threw the note aside.
“Decent chap, that Gray,” he said.
“I can’t say as to that,” answered Don, “but I do know that he’s a good hand at remodeling golf balls.”
[CHAPTER XII]
THE FACULTY RACE
When Paddy awoke the next morning his first act was to throw back the blinds and look eagerly at the thermometer hanging outside the window. It recorded fourteen above zero, and he gave a grunt of satisfaction as he scurried to the fireplace, raked the embers together, and added a fresh log. There was no likelihood of either snow or rain marring the skating surface of the river, and the state of the thermometer precluded a thaw. Paddy was in the best of spirits all the forenoon, as he and Wallace and the other members of the committee scurried from the school grounds to the village, and from the village to the scene of the coming contest on the river.
The “skating carnival” had been proclaimed far and wide; its fame had even reached the neighboring towns along the Hudson, and at two o’clock the boat-house float and steps and the river bank, as well as the frozen surface thereabouts, was thronged with townspeople from Hillton, Euston Point, and other hamlets. Of course the academy turned out in full force; the junior class attended in a body prepared to aid their champions by every feat of lung and throat. A clear stretch of smooth ice about ten yards from the shore had been roped off for the track whereon the sprints and a hurdle race were to be contested, while a series of red flags—borrowed from the golf club—marked the course of the half-mile and mile events. There was an appearance of dignity and importance about the scene that pleased Paddy mightily, and made him carry his bright blue badge with great pride.
Dave, with his usual hopefulness, had entered for everything for which he was eligible. Don was down for the hurdle race and a half-mile event, and Wayne had entered for the mile race for novices. Paddy was to take part in the class event and the mile. The afternoon was a perfect one for the sport. The sun shone dimly at times, the breeze, too light to interfere with speed, was nipping cold, and the ice was in fine condition. Professor Beck had consented to act as referee, and several of the other professors wore judges’ badges and tried earnestly to understand their duties.