Page:The Eight-Oared Victors.djvu/107

Rh "Good-bye!" called Tom. "Come along, Ruth. I'll have to hit up the oars going home or I'll have you so late that you'll get on the bad books of the Ogress."

"Oh, I'm there already," she replied, as she nodded to the Mexican, who bowed low in farewell. "All our crowd is, but we don't mind. Now, Tom, did you really mean what you said about going to camp on Crest Island this Summer?"

"I do, if I can get the other fellows to do it. I know they will, too, for we'll be near our rowing shells, and we can have the best kind of practice."

"Oh, is that the only reason you want to come here?" and she looked archly at him.

"Why, isn't that" he began and then a light dawned on him.

"I guess we wouldn't come if you girls weren't to be here," he added, quickly. "When I tell the fellows that, I know it will cinch matters. Oh, we'll come all right."

They reached their boat, embarked, and Tom was soon sculling away from the island.

"Queer chap—that Mendez," remarked the youth after a bit.

"Isn't he?" agreed Ruth.

"I didn't know those Mexicans were so thrifty," the rower went on. "Being a '