He looked about. Otto was deep in his book under the next tree. Horace smiled to himself and called across to him. Otto listened to the scheme with avidity and promptly pledged assistance.
"What you've got to do," directed Horace, "is to get the sweater. He keeps it in the top tray of his trunk; I saw it there a couple of days ago when he opened it."
"But supposing it's locked?"
"I don't believe it's locked," answered Horace. "Anyhow, you go up and see. I'll wait here."
"Well, but—but why don't you do it?" blurted Otto.
"Now don't you begin to ask questions," replied Horace severely. "You do as you're told. If you don't you may have trouble keeping your place in the second boat."
"That's all right," whined Otto, "but you more than half promised to get me into the first, and you haven't done it."
"I said I would if I could," answered the other coolly. "If you could row as well as Whitcomb I'd give you his place, but I'm not going to risk losing the race just to please you. Run along now."
Otto went, but was soon back again.
"I can't do it," he said. "Tom Forrest's up there asleep on his bed."