“But you don’t mean to say,” said Strutter, “the Premier,” “that you think any one of those fellows would do such a thing as cut our rope?”
“I don’t know,” said Wibberly. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t. I don’t fancy they’d stick at a trifle, the cads!”
“If Gilks had been in the boat,” said another, “I could have believed it of him, but he was as anxious for us to win as we were ourselves.”
“No wonder; he and his friend Silk have been betting right and left on us, I hear.”
“Well, I suppose there’s bound to be a new race,” said Strutter.
“I don’t know,” replied Wibberly. “I’d be just as well pleased if Bloomfield refused. The vile cheats!”
Bloomfield, be it said to his credit, was no party to these reckless accusations. Mortified as he was beyond description, and disappointed by the collapse of his ambition, he yet scouted the idea of any one of his five rivals being guilty of so dirty a trick as the cutting of his boat’s rudder-line. At the same time he was as convinced as any one that foul play had been at the bottom of the accident, and the perpetrator of the mean act was undoubtedly a schoolhouse boy. What mortified him most was that he did not feel as positive by any means as others that his boat, without the accident, would have won the race. He had been astonished and even disheartened by the performance of the rival crew, who had stuck to him in a manner he had not looked for, and which had boded seriously for the final result.
It was this reflection, more even than the thought of the broken line, which troubled him that evening. Could it be possible that his luck was deserting him?
His companions were troubled by no such suggestion. Indignation was the uppermost feeling in their breasts. Whoever had done the deed, it was a vile action, and till the culprit was brought to justice the whole schoolhouse was responsible in their eyes.
“I wonder a single one of them can hold up his head,” exclaimed Game.