"You'll find out when we race," smiled Prescott calmly.
"When we race?" repeated Preston's big chief. "Didn't we race
just now? Or do you consider that it wasn't a race just because
you weren't in it?"
"It wasn't a race," Dick answered. "Merely a brush."
"Brush?" repeated Hartwell indignantly. "Didn't we challenge
you fellows, and didn't you accept? Also, didn't you lose?"
"We lost the brush," Dick admitted.
"You lost the race to us," Hartwell declared stoutly. "Preston
High School beat Gridley High School by several lengths!"
"Hardly that," Dick retorted coolly. "Preston High School merely
distanced some boys from Gridley High School. You didn't defeat
a Gridley High School canoe crew."
"Why didn't we?" the Preston High School big chief questioned.
"Because, if you recall all the chat we had last night, the
'Scalp-hunter's' crew isn't yet official. We haven't been
authorized by the Athletic Council of Gridley High School."
"Is that the way you get out of it?" blurted Hartwell.
"No," Dick smiled. "That's the way we get Gridley High School
out of the charge of defeat. As soon as we're authorized to represent
Gridley High School as an official canoe crew, then you may claim
any victory you can obtain over us. But you haven't beaten our
high school yet for the reason that we don't officially represent
Gridley High School. Isn't that all clear?"
"I suppose so," Hartwell assented disappointedly.
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