Then he shrugged his shoulders. It was evident he wished to say something, and yet had a misgiving with regard to the fitness of the message, or Walter’s fitness to hear it.
“Well, out with it, Aldrich!” said Walter, his open, honest face contrasting strongly with the sly look of reserve on his companion’s features. “Out with it! That’s business, as you say.”
“Ha, ha, Plympton! You’ve got me there, sure. Well, as I was going to say, Lang Tripp, the captain of the Scarlet Grays, came to me the other day and said he, ‘Look here, Aldrich! This is between you and me.’ ‘Of course,’ said I. ‘Are you anxious to win in that boat–race?’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘we mean business, of course; but if we are whipped, we must submit. When a man goes into the market to buy, he must do the best he can, and let it go at that. That’s the way of it, of course,’ said I. ‘When a man goes into the market,’ he said—you said—no—he said”—
The business man tumbled over half a dozen “saids” and began again. “I mean that he referred to what I said about going into the market, and then went on, ‘That helps me to come to the point, which is—is—a little understanding—trade, some folks might call it, though I don’t.’ Then he went on, and this is what it amounted to. They have gone—I mean the Scarlet Grays—to a good deal of expense in getting up their uniform—they’re rich, you know! Rich isn’t the word. O they could buy out a gold mine and not feel it. Well, after all, they haven’t won a race. They are going to play with us, you know—row, I mean, and then they row with a set of mill–hands at Campton. Well, their folks feel badly because they don’t whip anybody, and Tripp says his mother is all worked up about it. Then Tripp asked, ‘Who is that rather heavy, strong, well–built fellow in your crew, who wears a stiff, round–top felt, and pulls a neat, strong stroke too, for I saw him at it the other day?’ Well, I knew my goods of course, and I knew it was—you.”
Here Walter straightened up. The compliment was very acceptable, and Chauncy’s quick eyes saw it. This apt disciple of Baggs appreciated the customer he was dealing with, and repeated the opinion of the renowned leader of the “Scarlet Grays.” Then he continued: “After that, Tripp said, ‘I really feel that we are at your mercy, especially with that fellow against us—’” here Chauncy looked slyly at Walter, who now stood erect as a king at a coronation—“‘and I know it’s going to make our fellers feel bad, and our folks feel bad, and we shall surely lose that next race with those mill fellers—and of course,’ he said, ‘I don’t mean that you shall lose by it—’ ‘Lose what?’ said I, for a business man must have his teeth cut. ‘Oh,’ said Tripp, ‘I am coming to it. We don’t, or I don’t, care a snap for the money. How much is it?’ Well, I told him; and then yesterday, I got ten fishermen to give each fifty cents, making between thirty and forty dollars in all as—as subscribed. Of course, Uncle Baggs is the heaviest name on the list, and he didn’t hand it to me; but then he’s good for twenty times twenty.”
Chauncy did not say whether he was good for the money, or simply for a “subscription”; a difference which all handlers of “subscription papers” appreciate. All this time, Walter was wondering what Chauncy was driving at.
“Of course I said I didn’t care about the money, and Tripp said he didn’t; and Tripp said that it should be all right. It should all be paid over to us; or rather, the equivalent of it. His folks would feel so badly if they lost another race, and he knew his crew wouldn’t have the heart to row that next race. ‘There,’ said he, ‘it shall be between us. If you and that Plympton—that’s what you call him—will just let up now and then on your rowing, and pull easy, I think we can handle the rest of you, and—and—’”
“What do you mean?” said Walter abruptly. “Sell out?”
He was now more erect than ever, straightening up because stiffened by a sense of indignation.