"I naturally wouldn't suspect the Gridley crew of rigging a drag
on the Gridley canoe," remarked the referee dryly, as he followed
the line back to the canoe. "See! Some scoundrel managed to
twist a screw-eye into one of your frame timbers underneath.
The line is made fast to the screw-eye. Captain Prescott, that
could have been done by someone hidden under this float while
your craft lay alongside. He could bring his mouth above water,
under the timbers of this float. Then, with his hand and arm
hidden under water the same rascal could easily reach out and
fasten in the screw-eye."

"Prescott," gasped Bob Hartwell, in a disgusted voice, "I hope
you don't believe that any of our fellows, or their friends, could
be guilty of such contemptible work!"

"Hartwell," Dick answered promptly, resting a hand on the arm
of the Preston High School boy, "I am offended that you should
believe us capable of suspecting Preston High School of anything
as mean as this. Of course we don't suspect Preston High School!"

The referee himself now twisted the screw-eye out of its bed in
the canoe frame. Then he gathered up the wet cord and blanket
and hurled the whole mass shoreward.

"I'd pay twenty-five dollars out of my own pocket," the race official
declared hotly, "for proof against the scoundrel who tried to
spoil clean sport in this manner!"

Nearly all of the crowd of spectators had now surged down close
to the float.