"Tell me about that!" chuckled the cowboy. "Scared? You bet they are! Motor Matt has put a crimp in the confidence they had about the outcome of the race."
"And that leads me to believe," went on Matt, "that, in spite of the fact that Merton has that roll of drawings and knows what we were doing to the Sprite, he's still afraid of us. The Dart can't be such a phenomenally fast boat as you imagined, Joe. If it was, why should Merton fear the Sprite? He's judging her, you understand, according to our first plans for changing her. He doesn't know a thing about the automobile engine and the other propeller we're going to install."
"Listen, once," said McGlory; "it's not the plans that's making Merton sidestep, but Motor Matt. He and his bunch will feel a heap easier if they can know the king of the motor boys is cut out of Lorry's herd."
"Another thing," continued Matt. "Merton and his friends are doing some betting on the race."
"I've heard about that," put in Lorry. "Merton is plunging with his father's bankroll, and going the limit. His friends are in the pool with him, and they're offering all sorts of fancy odds."
"If I could rake together a stake," said McGlory, "I'd take a little of that Winnequa money myself."
"No, you wouldn't, Joe," returned Matt. "I'm out with a club for that sort of thing. Good, clean sport is all right, but when you tangle it up with a lot of bookmakers it goes to the dogs."
"Mebby you're right, pard," grinned Joe, "but any kind of a chance, with money in sight, is excitin'."
"Merton and the rest wanted me, if I wouldn't agree to pull out, to throw the race."
"The scoundrels!" cried Lorry.