"Now don't you be a silly ass!" interrupted Chub in alarm. "Let them lose the old race! I reckon we don't want to lose the ball game either, do we? Now don't get sentimental and sloppy; Horace deserves all that's coming to him!"
"Maybe," answered Roy, "but I guess we'll just keep this to ourselves, if you fellows don't mind."
"But you won't be able to play!"
"I know," Roy replied, "but I wasn't expecting to, you see. And—and, anyhow, I've got my sweater back!"
"Sweater be blowed!" exploded Chub. "Don't be a fool, Roy! You're just fooling, aren't you, eh?"
"No, Chub, I'm not. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but—but I don't think it would be fair to the school to tell on Horace and lose the race. I'd like to play mighty well, but—I guess we'll just keep this to ourselves, fellows!"
CHAPTER XXV
THE BOAT-RACE
It was Saturday morning.