“Oh, very well, don’t take it,” laughed the crack. “It isn’t compulsory, you know.”
“Is this an open race?” asked Dan smilingly.
The crack turned.
“Surely,” he answered heartily. “Come on. Want a handicap?”
“Want to give me one?”
The other looked him over carefully and pursed his lips in a doubtful smile.
“You look sort o’ good, my friend. What’s your record for the quarter?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been timed for two or three years. Give me a couple of hundred yards.”
“All right, but I don’t like your looks.”
“How about me?” asked Tom, joining them. He looked like a good-natured, pink-and-white barrel, and the crack smiled as he looked him over.