"Don't be too sure you've got that Motor Matt fooled," counseled Rawlins. "Maybe he put that roll where the negro could get it, and expected he would get it. This king of the motor boys is deep—don't let that get past your guard for a minute. I've put all the money I could rake and scrape into the betting pool, and I don't want to lose it by any snap judgments."
That was the way with the rest of them. They had all clubbed their funds together and the result was a big purse for betting purposes.
"I guess it means as much to the rest of us as it does to you, Martin, to have the Dart win," said Merton dryly. "Motor Matt's deep, as you say, but don't make the mistake of crediting him with too much knowledge. He's only human, like the rest of us. From the way matters look now, we've got him and Lorry beaten, hands down. Motor Matt isn't sharp enough to steer those papers into my hands by way of Pete. Now, in all this betting of ours, the money is being placed with the understanding that if there is no race we take the cash; in other words, if the Yaharas back down and fail to send a boat to the starting line, we take the money."
"They won't back down," said Jimmie Hess. "Great Scott, Ollie, you don't think for a second that Lorry will back down, do you?"
"He may have to," was Merton's vague reply. "Anyhow, if you fellows make any bets outside of the pool, just make 'em in that way—that the stakes are yours if the Yaharas back down and there's no race."
"What's back of that, Ollie?" said Perry Jenkins. "You've got something up your sleeve, I know blamed well."
"And it's going to stay up my sleeve, so far as you fellows are concerned," returned Merton. "If I evolve a plan, I don't believe in advertising it. This Motor Matt may have steered those papers into our hands, and he may be deep enough to make the Sprite a better boat than the Dart while not knowing anything about the Dart, but I don't think so. However, I intend to be on the safe side. It means a whole lot to me to win—personally, and apart from my desire to see the Winnequas keep the De Lancey cup. Just how much it means"—and Merton winced—"you fellows are not going to know, any more than you're going to know what I've got at the back of my head for Sunday night. Put your trust in the commodore—that's all you've got to do. Open up some of that beer, Perry. I'm as dry as gunpowder's great-grandfather."
The glasses were filled again.
"To our success in the race," said Merton, lifting his glass and sweeping his keen eyes over the faces of his friends; "may the Dart win, by fair means"—he paused—"or otherwise."
Four or five peered at Merton distrustfully over their glasses; but, in the end, they drank the toast.