the flap of the tent and viewing the recumbent lads. "All here?
That's good. I'm a committee of one, sent over here by the Gridley
folks at the hotel. They're ordering a supper and they want you
boys to come over promptly. You're to be the guests of honor."

"Will you be good enough to present the Gridley people with our
best thanks," returned Dick promptly, rising to greet the referee,
"and ask them very kindly to excuse us? Assure them, please,
that we're in strict training, with more races to come, and that
banquets would perhaps spoil us for the next race."

"I'm afraid I'll have difficulty in getting that message through,"
protested Mr. Tyndall. "Your Gridley friends are bound to have
you over at the hotel."

"They can't get us there with anything less than the state militia,"
declared Dave, who had awakened. "We can fight and whip any smaller
body of armed men that tries to drag us away from our rest.
Our friends are good to us but can't they understand that we ache?"

"You _do_ look rather played out," assented Mr. Tyndall, after surveying
the various wrapped bundles of high school boy humanity. "But
can't you raise enough energy to come over in an hour?"

"If the Gridley people are really our friends," protested Tom
Reade, opening his eyes, "they'll let us sleep through until to-morrow
morning. We nearly killed our tender young selves in that last
big spurt, and now we must rest our bones and aching muscles."

"But what can I tell the folks at the hotel?" begged Mr. Tyndall.