"Ethics!" snorted Chub. "I'll bet ethics won't help us to win from Hammond this afternoon. Oh, I dare say it's all mighty fine and heroic, Roy, but it's blamed hard on me!"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, I dare say, but you're not half as sorry as I am," answered the other ruefully. "Look here, now. The race is all over and done with. Let's go see Emmy now and tell him what we know. What do you say? Shall we? He can't refuse to let you play."
But Roy shook his head.
"I'd rather not, Chub. I decided not to tell on Horace and I'm not going to, ever. That's settled. Besides, Emmy wouldn't let me play now; he'd say I ought to have told him as soon as I found it out."
"Wish to goodness you had," groaned Chub. "You're an obstinate beast, Roy. If I didn't like you so well I'd punch your fool head for you!"
Chub wasn't the only one disappointed and disgusted by Roy's stand. Harry had almost given way to tears when she had learned of his resolution.
"After all my trouble!" she had wailed. "I don't think it's very—very appreciative of you, Roy Porter!"
But in the end she, like Chub and Jack, had been bound to secrecy, promising not to tell her father. That she hadn't been cautioned against telling anyone else had been merely because Roy had known her ability to keep her own counsel.
"I suppose he will let you come and watch the game, won't he?" asked Chub as they parted on the stairway.