“Can he row?” he ejaculated.

“Yes, a little.”

“But he beat you?”

“I tell you how it was, father,” said Conrad, who had decided upon his story.  “I was well ahead till we got halfway back, when I got a terrible pain in my arm.  I must have strained it, I think.  Of course I couldn’t do anything after that, and Andy, who was next to me, went in and won.”

Squire Carter never thought of doubting Conrad’s story.  His pride extended to his family and all connected with him, and he felt satisfied that Conrad was the best rower in the village.

“Where did the Grant boy learn to row?” he asked.

“I heard him tell Mr. Gale that he learned at the academy.”

“You don’t think he is equal to you?”

“Of course he isn’t.  I am miles ahead of him.”

“It was very unfortunate that your arm gave out.  You had better speak to your mother, and she will put some arnica on it.”

“I will,” said Conrad cunningly.  “I would rather have had any boy beat me than that upstart, Andy Grant.  He will put on no end of airs.  Besides, I shall miss the money.”

“That, at any rate, I can make up to you.  Here are two five-dollar bills.”

“Thank you, father,” said Conrad, as, with much satisfaction, he pocketed the bills.  “It was lucky I thought about the strain,” he said to himself.  “All the same, it is awfully humiliating to be beaten by that beggar.”

“How do you think Conrad accounts for his defeat, Andy?” said Valentine the next day.

“I can’t tell.”

“He says he strained the muscles of his arm.”

Andy smiled.

“If it will make him feel any better, I have no objection to that explanation.”

“His father has given him ten dollars, so he will not lose any money.  But he won’t get any of the boys to believe his story.”

“The money is very acceptable to me,” said Andy.  “If I had lost, my father couldn’t have made it up to me.”

At five o’clock, on his way to the post office, Andy met Mr. Gale.

Walter Gale was a young man about twenty-five.  He had a pleasant face, and his manner was genial.  He had a strong sympathy with boys, and he was a favorite with them.

“Well, Andrew,” he said; “have you recovered from your exertions in the boat race?”

“Oh, yes; I am used to rowing, and felt very little fatigue.”

“I hear that Conrad is very much mortified by his defeat.”

“I believe he is.  He felt sure of winning.”

“And he would have done so if you had remained out of the list.”

“He told Valentine Burns that he strained the muscles of his arm, and that this defeated him.”

“I should think better of him if he would acknowledge that he was fairly beaten.  Are you at leisure this evening?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then call upon me at the hotel.  I shall be glad to know you better.”