"That's the stuff!" cried a little crowd that had gathered at the boathouse. It had been repaired temporarily and was habitable. It was curious to see the sudden interest in athletics since the Racer boys had revived racing.
The crew, headed by Frank, was walking up to the dining hall, for it was nearly time for supper. A telegraph messenger was approaching at a slow walk, holding a message in one hand and in the other a dime novel which he was devouring in the half light.
"Hey! Where you going?" called someone.
The lad looked up with a start. Probably seven redskins had just "bitten the dust."
"I've got a message here for Mr. Frank Racer," he said.
"Hand it over," answered our hero. "I guess it's from dad," he went on to Andy.
Quickly he tore the envelope open. Then he uttered an exclamation.
"It's from Gertrude," he said to his brother in a low voice. "Old Thorny has scored one on us. He's brought suit, has secured judgment, and a deputy sheriff is in possession of their house! I've got to go at once!"
CHAPTER XX
A MEAN TRICK