When he left home Fred Ripley had no clearly defined idea as to what he meant to do.
However, he had in one pocket a keen-bladed pocket knife. Well wrapped in paper a short but sharp-edged chisel rested in one of the side pockets of his coat.
At the outset his only purpose was to do irreparable mischief to the war canoe. The means of accomplishing that purpose he must decide upon when he reached the boatyard.
How dark it was, and how hot! Late as the hour was the baking heat of the day did not seem to have left the ground. Fred walked along rapidly, fanning his perspiring face with his straw hat.
"They'll have their war canoe in the water in a few days, will they?" the lawyer's son muttered. "Humph!"
Through the side streets he went, keeping a sharp lookout. Conscious of the fact that he was bent on an unworthy errand, Fred did not care to be recognized abroad at this unusual hour.
In a few minutes he had reached the boatyard. This was surrounded by a high board fence, and the gate was locked.
"It won't do to get over the fence," young Ripley decided. "I might be seen and watched. But I know a way."
At one corner of the yard the fence ran almost, though not quite to the bank of the river.
Keeping well within the shadow of the fence, young Ripley hastened toward this point.
Here the amount of space was not sufficient for him to step around the end of the fence. However, by grasping it on both sides Fred could swing himself around it and into the boatyard. He did so with ease, then halted, peering cautiously about the yard.
"No one here," the lawyer's son decided at last. "Whew! I wouldn't dare even to stumble over a tramp taking a nap here. This is ticklish business, or it would be if I were caught here. Now, where is the canoe?"
Early in the evening the moon had shone, but now the stars gave all the light there was to be had. It was so close in the yard that Fred soon pulled off his jacket, carrying it or his arm.
Nowhere in the open yard was the canoe to be seen. There were three semi-open sheds. Into each of these in turn Ripley peered. The canoe was nowhere to be found.
"I'm a fool to lose my sleep and take all the risk for this!" grunted the boy, halting and staring moodily about him in his great disappointment. He now glared angrily at a large building, two-thirds boathouse and one-third boat-building shop.
"Hiram Driggs had the canoe taken in there!" muttered the boy. "Just my luck. I couldn't get into that building unless I broke a window—-and I don't dare do that."
Still determined to get at the canoe, if possible, Fred stole down to the inclined platform from which boats were carried to the water. But the water-front entrance to the boathouse also proved to be locked.
"There's no show for me here," grunted the young prowler. "I wonder if any of the windows have been left unlocked."
His good sense told him that it would be a serious matter indeed to raise a window and enter the building—-if he were caught.
But Fred, after a few moments of strained listening, decided to take the chance. At any hazard that he dared take he must get to the war canoe and put it out of commission for all time.
He tried three of the windows. All of them proved to be locked.
"I'm going to have some more of my usual luck," groaned young Ripley. "I wonder why it is that I always have such poor luck when I have my heart most set on doing a thing?"
He was slipping along to the fourth window when he heard a sound that almost caused his heart to stop beating.
Merely the sound of footsteps pausing by the gate to the boatyard—-that was all, for a moment. But Fred cowered in acute dread.
"Who's in there?" called a steady voice, that filled Fred Ripley with consternation, He knew that voice! It belonged to a member of the Gridley police force.
"Talk about your tough luck!" shivered Fred. "This is the limit!Now, I'm in for it."
For a few moments he crouched close to the boathouse nearly paralyzed with fright. His consternation increased when a sound over by the fence indicated that the policeman was trying to mount that barrier.
Now, Fred's courage returned, or enough of it to enable him to try to escape. Bending low, he turned and ran swiftly, almost noiselessly. His speed astonished even himself. He gained the corner of the fence by which he had entered the yard. Taking a firm hold, he swung himself around the fence and out of sight just as the policeman's head showed over the top of it.
Fortunately for the fugitive, the policeman, in climbing the fence, had made noise enough to drown the slight sounds produced by Ripley's frenzied flight.
His first thought being of burglars, the policeman drew his revolver as soon as his feet touched the ground inside the yard. With his left hand he held an electric pocket flash lamp, whose rays he flashed into the dark places.
Fred did not stop until he found himself safely within the grounds of his home. There he halted, fanning himself with his hat and taking long breaths. If discovered by anyone he could easily claim that he had found the night too hot to sleep inside and had come outdoors for air.
The next morning, about ten o'clock, Hiram Driggs, who had already been visited by Dick & Co., on their way to Katson's Hill, was called upon by Policeman Curtis of the Gridley force. Curtis, being off duty, was in citizen's clothes.
"Did you miss anything out of the plant this morning, Mr. Driggs?" inquired the guardian of life and property.
"Nothing that I know of," Driggs answered. "Why?"
"I thought I heard burglars about here last night, while on duty," the policeman explained. "I came up over the fence, and looked about the place, but couldn't find anything. Yes, I did, too, though. I'll talk about that in a moment. You see, I went off duty at one o'clock this morning, so I didn't spend much time here. I'm on house reserve duty to-day. Now, for what I found here. I didn't find a living soul in the yard, but on the ground, near one of the open sheds, I came upon a chisel wrapped in a newspaper. I hid it, then, but I'll show it to you now. Maybe it belongs to the shop, and if so I've no business with it. But, if you don't recognize the chisel as yours, then I'll take it up to the station house and turn it over to the chief."
"After all that stretch o' talk," smiled Driggs, "you ought to show me a whole case full of chisels."
"I hid it over here," Curtis explained, going over to one of the open sheds. "I tucked it in under this packing case. Here it is, now, just where I left it. Do you recognize it as yours?"
From the newspaper wrapping Driggs took the small but keen-edged implement. He regarded it curiously. Then he turned the paper over slowly.
"Do you recognize it?" persisted the policeman.
"Mebbe," said Driggs. "I guess you can leave it here. But, in case any question should come up about it in the future, suppose you write your autograph on the handle of the chisel."
Driggs passed over his fountain pen, the policeman obligingly obeying the request for his signature on the wood.
"Now, just for good measure, write your name across the top of the newspaper, too," Driggs proposed. Curtis did so.
"You seem to attach a good deal of importance to this find," hinted the policeman.
"Mebbe," assented Driggs indifferently. "Mebbe not. But you and I will both know this paper and the chisel again, if we see it, won't we?"
"We ought to," nodded the policeman. "But you don't consider the matter as important enough, then, to interest the police?"
"I wouldn't think o' bothering the police force about a trifling little matter like this," returned Driggs carelessly.
Just as soon, however, as the policeman had gone, Driggs darted into his private office. There he took up the telephone receiver and asked for Lawyer Ripley's residence number.
"Is Master Fred at home!" he inquired, when a servant of the Ripley household answered the telephone. Fred was at home, the servant replied, and then summoned Fred to the telephone.
"Well, who is it, and what is it?" asked Fred crossly.
"Hiram Driggs," responded the boat builder dryly. "That's 'who is it.' As to 'what is it,' if you'll take a quick run over to my office at the boatyard I'll tell you the rest of it."
"What on earth can you want to see me about?" Fred demanded.
Even over the wire, the note of dismay in Ripley's voice was plainly evident to Driggs, who chuckled.
"I can't tell you, over the wire, all that I want to see you about," Driggs replied. "You'd better come over here at once. I can promise you that it's something interesting."
"I—-I don't believe I can come over to-day," Fred answered hesitatingly."The weather is too hot."
"Mebbe the weather will get hotter, if you don't come," HiramDriggs responded calmly.
"That's a joke, eh?" queried Fred. "Ha, ha, ha!"
"Depends upon the feller's sense of humor," Driggs declared."Well, you're coming over, aren't you?"
"Ye-es, I'll come," Fred assented falteringly, for his guilty conscience made a coward of him. "You're a fine fellow, Mr. Driggs, and I'm glad to oblige anyone like you. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, ever so much, for the compliment," drawled Driggs in his most genial tone. "Such a compliment is especially appreciated when it comes from a young gentleman of your stripe. Good-bye."
That word "stripe" caused Fred Ripley to have a disagreeable chill. He remembered that "stripes" are an important part of the design on a convict's suit of state-furnished clothes.
"But he needn't think he can prove anything against me," Fred muttered to himself, as he started down the street. "Of course, I know I lost that chisel last night, and Driggs may have found it in his boatyard. But he can't prove that the chisel belongs to me, or to our house. There are lots more chisels just like that one. If Driggs tries to bluff me he'll find that I'm altogether too cool for him!"
Nevertheless, it was an anxious young man who walked into the boat builder's office a few minutes later. Hiram Driggs, smiling broadly, held out his hand, which Fred took.
"Sorry I wasn't here when you called last night," said Driggs affably.
"I don't know what you mean," Fred rejoined promptly. "I didn't call at your house last night."
"Oh, no," Driggs replied. "I meant when you called here."
"I didn't call here, either."
"Ever see this before?" asked Driggs, holding up the chisel.
"Never," lied Fred.
"That's curious," said Driggs musingly. "Officer Curtis, the man on this beat, found the chisel here, and it was wrapped up in part of this newspaper."
Driggs brought forth from one of the drawers of his desk the newspaper in question.
"What has that scrap of paper to do with it?" asked Fred, speaking as coolly as he could.
"Why," explained Driggs, turning the paper over, "here's the mail sticker on this side, with your father's printed name and address pasted on it just as it came through the post-office."
Fred gasped audibly this time. Driggs surveyed his face with a keen, tantalizing gaze.
"Mebbe 'twas your father, then, who was in the yard last night, and who refused to answer the policeman's hail," suggested the boat builder. "I'd better go up to his office and show him these things and ask him, I guess."
"But I don't believe my father will know anything about it," spoke young Ripley huskily.
"Then your father will want to know something about it," Driggs went on. "He's a man of an inquiring turn of mind. Let's run up to his office together and ask him."
"No, no, no!" urged Fred, his face growing paler.
"Then why were you here last night?"
"I wasn't here," protested the boy.
"Perhaps I can tell you why you were here," Driggs went on, never losing his affable smile. "You don't like Dick Prescott, and you don't like his boy friends. Prescott has been too many for you on more than one occasion. But that is no reason why you should enter my yard after midnight. That is no reason why you should want to do harm to a war canoe or to any other property that happens to be in my yard. I really don't know whether you're to be blamed for being a glib liar, Ripley. You've never given yourself much practice at telling the truth, you know. But I have this to say: If anything happens to that canoe, or to anything else here, I shall make it my business to get hold of Officer Curtis, and he and I will drop in and show your father this chisel, and this piece of paper that it was wrapped in. As you will see, Curtis has written his signature on the paper and on the handle of the chisel, so that he may identify them again at any time. Now, Ripley, I won't look for you to pay this yard any more visits except in a proper way and during regular business hours. Good morning!"
Hiram Driggs held out his hand as smilingly as ever, and Fred took it in a flabby grasp, feeling as though he were going to faint. Then without a word Ripley slunk out of the office, while Driggs gazed after him still smiling.
"The mean scoundrel!" panted Fred, as he hurried away, his knees trembling under him. "There isn't a meaner fellow in town than Hiram Driggs, and some day he'll go and tell my father just for spite. I know he will! Now, I've got to find some good way to account for that paper and chisel I'll put in the day thinking up my story."
Away over on Katson's Hill six high school boys, stripped to their undershirts and trousers, were toiling hard, drenched in perspiration and with hands considerably the worse for their hard work.
"What we're finding out is that it's one thing to strip bark for fun, and quite another thing to take it off in pieces large enough for a boat-builder," Dick Prescott declared.
"It isn't as fast work as I thought it would be, either," Dave Darrin declared, running his knife slowly down the trunk of a young birch.
"What we need is to bring a grindstone along with us," Tom Reade grunted, as he examined the edge of the largest blade in his jackknife. "I simply can't cut with this knife any more."
"I couldn't cut with a fine razor," declared Greg Holmes. "Look at the blisters on my hands from the cutting I've already done."
"Never mind your aches and pains," comforted Dave Darrin. "We're doing this to pay charges on our canoe, and Hiram Driggs has been mighty kind about the whole business. Think of the fun we're going to have when that canoe is launched; Now, fellows, Hiram Driggs has been mighty good to us, so I want to propose a plan for your approval. Whenever Driggs tells us that we've cut and hauled enough birch bark to pay him, then we must come out here and get still a few more loads, to pay him in good measure and show that we appreciate his kindness. Never mind how much our backs ache or our hands smart. Do you agree?"
"I'll fight any fellow in the crowd who doesn't agree," announcedTom Reade.
"You can't get up a fight with me on that score," retorted Greg.The others also quickly assented to Dave's plan.
By and by the youngsters halted for half an hour to eat the luncheons they had brought with them. Then they went at their work again.
At half-past three o'clock in the afternoon they tied up in bundles as much of the bark as each boy could carry, then started homeward.
"We ought to get home in time for supper," Dick declared hopefully.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening when they reached Greg's gate. The return was harder than they had expected. The road seemed to be twice as rough as it had been in the morning; they were utterly fagged, and discovered that even a load of birch bark can weigh a good deal under certain circumstances.
"Pile it up in the back of the yard," Greg suggested, "and we'll take it around to Mr. Driggs in the morning."
"Then we can hardly get back to Katson's Hill to-morrow, if we wait until the boatyard opens at eight o'clock," said Dave. "We ought to start for the hill before six, as we did this morning."
"We'll none of us feel like going to Katson's Hill early to-morrow morning," smiled Dick wearily. "Fellows, I guess we'll have to put in twice as much time, and go every other day. I'm afraid it's going to be a little too much for us to do everyday."
So this was agreed upon, though rather reluctantly, for Dick &Co. were anxious to repay Driggs at the earliest date.
Not one of the six boys appeared on Main Street that evening. Each of them, after eating supper, crept away to bed to ease the aching of his muscles in slumber.
The next morning they met at Greg's gate shortly after seven o'clock.
"The loads will seem lighter to-day," laughed Dick.
"But to-morrow—-oh, me, oh, my!" groaned Reade, making a comical face.
"It's the 'White Man's Burden,' you know," Dick laughed.
"What is?" Dave inquired.
"Debt—-and its consequences."
"My father has a horror of debt," Tom announced.
"Well, I guess the black side of debt shows only when one doesn't intend to make an effort to pay it," Dick suggested. "The whole business world, so we were taught at high school, rests on a foundation of debt. The man who doesn't contract debts bigger than he can pay, won't find much horror in owing money. We owe Hiram Driggs twenty dollars, or rather we're going to owe it. But the bark we're going to take in to him to-day is going to pay a part of that debt. A few days more of tramping, blistered hands and aching backs, and we'll be well out of debt and have the rest of the summer for that great old canoe!"
"Let's make an early start with the bark," proposed Tom. "I want to see if the stuff feels as heavy as it did late yesterday afternoon."
"Humph! My load doesn't seem to weigh more than seven ounces,"Darrin declared, as he shouldered one of the piles of bark.
"Lighter than air this morning," quoth Tom, "and only a short haul at that."
When Hiram Driggs reached his boatyard at eight o'clock he foundDick & Co. waiting for him.
"Well, well, well, boys!" Mr. Driggs called cheerily. "So you didn't back out."
"Did you think we would, sir?" Dick inquired.
"No; I knew you boys wouldn't back out. And I don't believe you threw away any bark on the way home, just to lighten your loads."
Hiram went about the yard starting the day's work for his men, then came back to the boys.
"Now, just bring the bark over to the platform and we'll look it over and sort it," suggested the boat builder.
Dick & Co. carried their loads over to the platform, where they cut the lashings.
"We'll make three heaps of the stuff," Driggs proposed. "One heap will be the worthless stuff that has to be thrown away. Another heap will be for the pieces that are good but small; they'll do for patches. The third heap will be the whole, sound strips. Mebbe I'd better do all the sorting myself."
So the boys stood by, watching Driggs as he sorted the bundles of bark with the speed of a man who knows just what he wants. A quantity of the bark went on to the "worthless" heap, yet there was a goodly amount in each of the other piles by the time that the boat builder was through sorting it.
"You've done first rate, boys," he announced at last. "Is there much more of that bark on Katson's Hill?"
"We ought to be able to bring in fifty times as much bark as we've brought already," Dick answered.
"I wish you would," Driggs retorted.
"And give up the whole of our summer vacation?" Danny Grin asked anxiously.
"Well, there is that side to it, after all," Driggs admitted quickly. "It must be a tough job on your backs, too. But, boys, I wouldn't mind having a lot of this stuff, for birch bark canoes are coming into favor again. The only trouble is that birch bark is hard to get, these days, and costs a lot to boot. So it makes birchbark canoes come pretty high. At the same time, there are plenty of wealthy folks who would pay me well for a birch-bark canoe. Now, I know that you boys, owning a canoe that will soon be in the water, won't be anxious to give up your whole summer to doing jobs for me. But couldn't you bring in a lot more bark if you had a team of horses and a good-sized wagon?"
"Of course we could," Dick nodded. "But we haven't any horses or a wagon."
"I was thinking," Driggs went on slowly. "I can spare my gray team and the big green wagon. Any of you boys know how to drive?"
"All of us do," Dick answered, "though I guess Tom could handle a team better than any of the rest of us."
"Then suppose you take my team out at six o'clock to-morrow morning?" Driggs suggested. "I'll have to charge you four dollars a day for it, but I'll take it in bark as payment. With the wagon you'll be able to bring in a lot more bark than you could without a wagon."
"It's a fine idea, sir," glowed Dick, "and you're mighty kind to us."
"Not especially kind," smiled the boat builder. "I can use a lot of this bark in my business, and I'm glad to get it on as reasonable a basis as you boys can bring it to me. You see, it's lucky that Katson's Hill is wild and distant land. If we had a land owner to deal with he'd make us pay high for the privilege of stripping the bark."
"But why couldn't you send your own workmen out to cut the bark?"Dick asked. "They've as much right on Katson's Hill as we have."
"Oh, yes; I could do that," Driggs assented. "And I could make a little more money that way, mebbe. But would it be square business, after you young men have trusted me with your business secret as to where bark can be had for nothing?"
That was a ruggedly honest way of putting it that impressed Dick & Co.
"I'll tell you what you—-might do, Mr. Driggs," hinted Tom Reade. "You might lend us a grindstone, if you have one to spare. Then we can sharpen our knives right on the spot and cut bark faster."
"You can have the grindstone," Driggs assented. "And I'll do better than that. I can spare half a dozen knives from the shop that are better than anything you carry in your pockets. Oh, we'll rush this business along fast."
Six utterly happy high school boys reported at Hiram Driggs' stable at six o'clock the next morning. They harnessed the horses, put the grindstone in the wagon and all climbed aboard. Two seats held them all, and there was room for a load of bark, besides, several times as large as Dick & Co. could carry on their backs.
Work went lightly that day! The shop knives cut far better than pocket knives could do, and the stone was at hand for sharpening. Six laughing and not very tired boys piled aboard the wagon that afternoon, with what looked like a "mountain" of prime birch bark roped on.
For seven more working days Dick & Co. toiled faithfully, at the end of which time they discovered that they had about "cleaned" Katson's Hill of all the really desirable bark.
"Your canoe will be dry enough to launch in the morning," said Driggs, as he received the last load at his stable. "Come down any time after eight o'clock and we'll put it in the water."
Were Dick & Co. on hand the next morning?
Dan Dalzell was the last of the six boys to reach post outside the locked gate of the yard, and he was there no later than twenty-one minutes past seven.
At five minutes before eight Hiram Driggs arrived, keys in hand.
"I see you're on time," he smiled, unlocking the gate and throwing it open. "Now come in and we'll run your canoe out on the river float."
Even in the dim light of the boathouse Dick & Co. could see the sides of the canoe glisten with their coating of pitch and oil that lay outside the bark. The war canoe looked like a bran-new craft!
"Do you like her?" queried Driggs, with a smile of pride in the work of his yard.
"Like her?" echoed Dick, a choking feeling in his throat. "Mr.Driggs, we can't talk—-yet!"
"Get hold," ordered the boat builder. "Carry her gently."
Gently? Dick & Co. lifted their beloved treasure as though the canoe carried a cargo of eggs.
Out into the morning sun they carried her, letting her down with the stern right at the water's edge.
"O-o-o-oh!" It would be hard to say which one of Dick & Co. started that murmur of intense admiration.
"Now, if you can take your eyes off that canoe long enough," proposed Driggs, after all hands, the builder included, had feasted their eyes for a few minutes upon the canoe, "come into the office and we'll attend to a little business."
Not quite comprehending, the high school boys followed Driggs, who seated himself at his desk, picking up a sheet of paper.
"Prescott, I take it you're the business manager of this crowd," the boat builder went on. "Now, look over these figures with me, and see if everything is straight. Here are the different loads of bark you've brought in. I figure them up at $122.60. See if you make it the same?"
"Of course I do," nodded Dick, not even looking at the figures.
"Careless of you, not to watch another man's figuring," remarked Hiram Driggs. "Now, then, the bark you've brought in comes to just what I've stated. Against that is a charge for the team and wagon, eight days at four dollars a day—-thirty-two dollars. Twenty dollars for fixing your canoe. Total charges, fifty-two dollars. Balance due you for bark, seventy dollars and sixty cents. That's straight, isn't it?"
"I—-I don't understand," faltered Dick Prescott.
"Then see if this will help you to understand," proposed Driggs, drawing a roll of bills from his pocket and laying down the money. Here you are, seventy dollars and sixty cents."
"But we didn't propose to sell you any bark," Dick protested. "All we expected to do was to bring you in good measure to pay you for all your kindness to us."
"Kindness to you boys?" demanded Driggs, his shrewd eyes twinkling. "I hope I may go through life being as profitably kind to others. Boys, the bark you've sold me will enable me to make up several canoes at a fine, fat profit. Take your pay for the goods you've delivered!"
Dick glanced at his chums, who looked rather dumbfounded. Then he picked up the bills with an uneasy feeling.
"Thank you, then," young Prescott continued. "But there is one little point overlooked, Mr. Driggs. You did the canoe for us at cost, though your price to any other customer would have been thirty dollars."
"Oh, we'll let it go at that," Driggs suggested readily. "I'm coming out finely on the deal."
"We won't let it go at that, if you please, sir," Dick Prescott retorted firmly.
Dick placed a ten dollar bill on the desk, adding:
"That makes the full thirty dollars for the repairing of the canoe."
"I don't want to take it," said Driggs gruffly.
"Then we won't take any of this money for the bark," insistedDick, putting the rest of the money back on the table.
"If you corner me like that," muttered Driggs, "I'll have to take your ten dollars. Now put the rest of the money back in your pocket, and divide it among your crowd whenever you're ready. Wait a minute until I make out a receipt for repairing the canoe. I'll put the receipt in your name, Prescott."
Driggs wrote rapidly, then reached for another paper.
"And now," he laughed, "since you're so mighty particular about being exact in business, you may as well sign a receipt for the money paid you for the bark."
Signatures were quickly given.
"Now, I reckon you boys want to get out to your canoe," the builder hinted.
"Yes, but we can't take Dick with us," Tom declared. "Not with all that money belonging to the company in his pocket. Dick, before you step into the canoe you'd better leave the money with Mr. Driggs, if he'll oblige us by taking care of it."
Driggs dropped the money in an envelope, putting the latter in his safe.
"Call and get it when you're going away," he said.
"Some day, when we recover, Mr. Driggs," said Dick earnestly, "we're going to come in and try to thank you as we should."
"If you do," retorted the boat builder gruffly, "I'll throw you all out. Our present business deal is completed, and the papers all signed. Git!"
Driggs followed them out to show them how to launch the canoe with the least trouble.
"Have any of you boys ever handled a paddle before?" inquiredHiram Driggs.
"Oh, yes; in small cedar canoes," Dave answered.
"All of you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you ought to get along all right in this craft. But be careful at first, and don't try any frolicking when you're aboard. Remember, a canoe isn't a craft that can be handled with roughness. Don't anyone try to 'rock the boat,' either. In a canoe everyone has to sit steadily and attend strictly to business."
"A war canoe! Isn't it great?" chuckled Dan, as he started to help himself to a seat.
But Tom grabbed him by the coat collar, pulling him back.
"First of all, Danny Grin, shed that coat. Then ask Dick which seat you're going to have. He's the big chief of our tribe of Indians."
"Better all of you leave your coats here," suggested Driggs. "You can get 'em when you come back. And you can keep the canoe here without charge, so you'll have a safe place for it. Some fellows, you know, might envy you so that they might try to destroy the canoe if you left it in a place that isn't locked up at night."
When the boys were ready, in their shirt sleeves, Dick assigned Dave Darrin to the bow seat. The others were placed, while Prescott himself took the stern seat, from which the steering paddle must be wielded.
"All ready, everyone," Dick called. "Dave, you set the stroke, and give us a slow, easy one. We mustn't do any swift paddling until we've had a good deal of practice. Shove off, Dave."
Darrin pushed his paddle against the float, Dick doing likewise at the stern. Large as it was, the canoe glided smoothly across the water.
"Now, give us the slow stroke, Dave!" Dick called.
Soon the others caught the trick of paddling in unison. Each had his own side of the craft on which to paddle. Dick, alone, as steersman, paddled on either side at will, according as he wished to guide the boat.
"You're doing finely," called Hiram Driggs.
"Let's hit up the speed a bit," urged Dan Dalzell.
"We won't be in too big a hurry about that," Dick counseled."Let us get the knack of this thing by degrees."
"Whee! When we do get to going fast I'll wager there is a lot of fine old speed in this birch-bark tub!" chuckled Tom Reade.
Dick now headed the canoe up the river. For half a mile or more they glided along on a nearly straight course.
To say that these Gridley high school boys were happy would be putting it rather mildly. There was exhilaration in every move of this noble sport. Nor was it at all like work. The canoe seemed to require but very little power to send her skimming over the water.
At last Dick guided the canoe in an easy, graceful turn, heading down the river once more.
"Now, you can try just a little faster stroke, Dave," Dick suggested. "And make it just a bit heavier on the stroke, fellows, but don't imagine that we're going to try any racing speed."
"Hurrah!"
"Zip!"
"Wow!"
It was great sport! Just the small increase in the stroke sent the handsome big war canoe fairly spinning down the river.
"I never dreamed it would be like this!" cried Dave Darrin, in ecstasy. "Fellows, I don't believe there is any fun in the world equal to canoeing in a real canoe."
"It beats all the little cedar contraptions that some folks call canoes!" Tom Reade declared.
"I am almost beginning to think," announced Danny Grin, "thatI'd rather go on canoeing than go home for my dinner."
"That idea would last until about half-past twelve," chuckled Reade. "This is glorious fun, all right, but dinner has its place, too. As for me, I want to get my dinner strictly on time."
"Glutton!" taunted Greg Holmes.
"Don't you believe it," Reade retorted. "I want my dinner right on time so that I can get back for a longer afternoon in the canoe."
"Fellows," announced Dave Darrin solemnly, "we've got to form a canoe club."
"Humph!" retorted Greg Holmes. "We don't want to belong to any club where the other fellows have only the fourteen or sixteen foot cedar canoes."
"We don't have to," Dave explained. "We'll limit the membership to those who own war canoes like this one. In other words, we'll be the whole club."
"What's the need of our forming a club?" asked Greg Holmes. "We're as good as being a club already. We're always together in everything, aren't we?"
"Still, it won't do any harm to have a regular club name for the summer," Dick Prescott suggested.
"What would we call the club?" asked Hazelton.
"Why not call it the Gridley High School Canoe Club?" Dick demanded.
"Best name possible," Tom agreed.
"Some of the other high school fellows might get sore at us, though," Tom hinted. "They might say we had no right to take the high school name."
"We won't take it for ourselves only," Dick smiled. "We'll keep the club membership open to any set of six fellows who will own and run a war canoe. We'll keep the membership as open as possible to the high school fellows."
"Humph! And then Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and a few others with plenty of cash would get a canoe and insist on coming in and spoiling the club."
"They might," Dick assented, "but I don't believe they would.Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and a few others of their kind in theGridley High School wouldn't spend five cents to join anythingwe're in."
Toot! toot! sounded a whistle shrilly behind them.
Dick turned carefully to glance at the bend above them.
"Steam launch, with an excursion party," he informed the others. "I think I see Laura Bentley and Belle Meade in the bow waving handkerchiefs at us."
Dan Dalzell turned abruptly around. Harry Hazelton did the same.
"Look out!" cried Greg, as he shifted swiftly to steady the craft.
Just then Tom Reade turned, too. His added weight sent the canoe careening. There was a quick scramble to right the craft.
Flop! The canoe's port rail was under water. She filled and sank, carrying a lot of excited high school boys down at the same time.
Dick Prescott sank into the water not more than two or three feet. Then his head showed above the surface of the river. He struck out vigorously, looking about him.
"The canoe is done for!" he gasped.
Too-oot! too-oot! too-oot! The steam launch was now speeding to the scene, its whistle screeching at a rate calculated to inform everyone in Gridley of another river disaster.
Up came Greg, then Dave. Tom Reade's head appeared down stream. Harry Hazelton bobbed up not six feet from Dick. Hazelton blew out a mouthful of water, then called:
"Everyone up, Dick?"
"All but Dan."
"What——-"
"I guess he's all right. Danny Grin is a good swimmer, you know."
Half a dozen river craft were now heading their way, but the launch was the only power boat in sight.
Five members of Dick & Co. now got close together.
"We've got to go down after Danny Grin," Reade declared. "You fellows watch, and I'll get as close to bottom as I can."
Tom sank. To the anxious boys he seemed to be gone for an age.He came up alone.
"Did you see Dan?" Dick faltered. "Not a glimpse of him," returnedTom despairingly.
"See the canoe?"
"No."
"Then you couldn't have gone down in the right place," Dick argued.
"I'll try it, fellows!" exclaimed Darrin. Down went Dave. He soon came up, treading water. As soon as he had blown out a mouthful of water he exclaimed:
"I found Dan, but I couldn't stay under long enough. He went down with the canoe. He's lying in it now."
"Look out, there! We'll pick you up," called a voice from the launch, which now darted toward the boys. A bell for half speed, then another for "stop" sounded, and the hull of the launch divided the frightened swimmers.
"Let me get aboard!" cried Dick, taking a few lusty over-hand strokes.
Willing hands hauled him into the launch at the bow, while girls' cries and anxious questions filled the air.
"What's the matter?"
"Who——-"
But Dick waited to answer no one. Standing in the bow of the launch, he pointed his hands, then dived into the river.
While he was below the surface of the water the other canoeists swam alongside, helping themselves aboard.
"Oh, Dave!" cried Laura Bentley. "What's wrong?"
"Dan Dalzell hasn't come up," Darrin choked. "Here, clear the way. I'm going down after Dick."
He was gone like a flash. Seconds ticked by while a score of pale faces watched over the side of the launch.
Then, at last, up shot Dave. He was followed almost instantly by Dick, his arms wrapped around the motionless form of Dan Dalzell.
"Get close and we'll haul you in!" called Tom Reade, a boat-hook in his hand.
"Is Dan drowned!" demanded a dozen voices.
"Don't ask questions now!" cried Tom Reade impatiently, without looking about him. "Keep quiet! It's a time for work."
Abashed, the questioners became silent. Tom caught the boat-hook through the collar of Dan's flannel shirt. With the aid of the launch's helmsman Reade drew Dan in and got him aboard. Young Dalzell's eyes were closed, nor did he speak.
Then Dick and Dave were pulled aboard the launch.
"Dan didn't seem to be able to free himself," Darrin explained breathlessly. "His foot was wedged under a cleat in the canoe."
"Carry Dan aft," ordered Dick, while he was still clambering over the rail. "Lay him face down."
Then, drenched as he was, Dick hastened aft, where he directed others how to pat Dan on the back and to work his arms.
"We've got to get that water off his lungs," Dick explained. "Don't stop working for a moment. I wish we had a barrel to roll him on!"
"We will have soon," replied the launch's helmsman, rushing back to his post and ringing the bell. Thus recalled to his post, the engineer turned on the speed.
The craft made swiftly for Hiram Driggs' float. A few moments later it ran alongside.
Warned by the whistle, Driggs and two of his workmen came running out to the float.
"Get a barrel as quickly as you can!" shouted young Prescott.
By the time Dalzell had been hustled ashore the barrel was in readiness. Dan received an energetic rolling. Three or four little gushes of water issued from his mouth.
"Keep up the good work," ordered Dick feverishly. "We'll bring him around soon."
When they saw that no more water was coming from Dalzell's mouth the workers placed him in a sitting position, then began to pump-handle his arms vigorously.
A tremor ran through the body of Danny Grin.
"Hurrah!" cried Dick. "He's going to open his eyes!"
This Dan did a few moments later. "Keep on working his arms," commanded Prescott.
"Quit!" begged Dalzell in a faint whisper. "You're hurting me."
"Good enough!" chuckled Dick. "Keep on at his arms until he can talk a whole lot more."
"But isn't it cruel?" asked a girl.
"No," rejoined Tom Reade, turning to her. "Did you ever bring a drowning man to?"
"Never, of course."
"Then let our Dick have his way. He generally knows what he's about. No rudeness intended you understand," Reade added, smiling.
"This lad's all right, now," declared Hiram Driggs. "Help him to his feet and walk him about a bit until he gets the whole trick of breathing again. Dalzell, didn't you know any better than to try to swallow the whole river and ruin my business?"
A faint grin parted Dan's lips.
"Oh, I'm so thankful," sighed Laura Bentley. "Dick, I was afraid there would be but five of you left when I saw Dan being hoisted aboard!"
Soon Dalzell was able to laugh nervously. Then a scowl darkened his face.
"I'm the prize idiot of Gridley!" he muttered faintly.
"What's the matter now?" Dave Darrin demanded.
"The canoe is lost, and it's all my fault," moaned Dalzell. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
"Bother the canoe!" cried Dick impatiently. "We're lucky enough that no lives have been lost."
"But I—-I turned and upset the craft," wailed Dan.
"There were others of us," said Greg sheepishly. "If we had had the sense of babies none of us would have turned, and there wouldn't have been any accident."
"This is no time to talk about canoe etiquette," Prescott declared. "Let us be thankful that we're all here. We'll wait until Dan is himself again before we do any talking."
"I'm all right," protested Dan Dalzell.
"Yes; I believe you are," Driggs nodded.
"'T' any rate, you won't die now of that dose of river water."
"Party ready to come back aboard the launch?" called the helmsman.
"Oh, don't hurry us, just now!" appealed Laura Bentley, going over to him quietly. "We're all so interested and concerned in what is going on over here."
So the helmsman waited, grumbling quietly to himself.
Some twenty of the high school girls had chartered the launch for a morning ride up the river. Dainty enough the girls looked in their cool summer finery. They formed a bright picture as they stood grouped about Dick & Co. and the other male members of the party.
"You fellows can say all you want to," mumbled Dan, "but the canoe is gone for good and all! We won't have any more fun in it this summer."
"Was that what ailed you, Dan?" teased Darrin. "You felt so badly over the loss of the canoe that you tried to stay on the bottom of the river with it?"
"My foot was caught, and I couldn't get it loose," Dan explained. "I was trying to free myself, like mad, you may be sure, when all at once I didn't know anything more. You fellows must have had a job prying my foot loose."
"It was something of a job," Dick smiled, "especially as our time was so limited down there at the bottom with you. The river must be twenty feet deep at that point."
"All of that," affirmed Hiram Driggs.
By this time the high school girls had divided into little groups, each group with a member of Dick & Co. all to itself. The girls were engaging in that rather senseless though altogether charming hero worship so dear to the heart of the average schoolboy.
"What caused the accident?" inquired one girl.
"Gallantry," smiled Greg. "We were all so anxious to see you girls that we all turned at the same time. We made the canoe heel, and then it filled and went down. But you can't blame us, can you?"
"But you've lost your fine big canoe," cried Laura Bentley, looking as though her pretty eyes were about to fill with tears.
"Yes," Dick admitted, "and, of course, it's too bad. But a lot of other worse things might have happened, and I guess we'll get over our loss some way."
"But that canoe meant so much for your summer fun," Laura went on. "Oh, it's too bad!"
"Maybe the canoe isn't lost," suggested Hiram Driggs.
"What do you mean, Mr. Driggs?" cried Laura, turning to him quickly.
"Is there any way of bringing the canoe up again?" asked BelleMeade eagerly.
"There may be," Driggs replied quietly. "I'm going to have a try at it anyway."
"All aboard that are going back to the dock," called the helmsman of the launch, who was also her owner.
Laura turned upon him with flashing eyes.
"I don't believe there is anyone going," she said. "We wouldn't leave here anyway, while there's a chance that the high school boys can get their canoe back to the surface of the water. You needn't wait, Mr. Morton. When we're ready we can walk the rest of the way."
"I don't say that I can surely raise the canoe," Mr. Driggs made haste to state, "or that it will be worth the trouble if we do raise it. That canoe may have sunk on river-bottom rocks, and she may be badly staved by this time. But I've sent one of my men to fire the scow engine, and I'm going out to see what can be done in the matter."
"And may we wait here?" asked Laura Bentley, full of eagerness.
"Certainly, young ladies."
"Oh, that's just fine of you, Mr. Driggs," cried Belle Meade.
Smoke soon began to pour out of the short funnel of the working engine on the boatyard scow. It was a clumsy-looking craft—-a mere floating platform, with engine, propeller, tiller and a derrick arrangement, but it had done a lot of good work at and about the boatyard.
"You want to get aboard the scow now, boys," called Mr. Driggs. "If we do anything real out yonder I'll have need of some willing muscle."
"Can't some of the girls go, too?" called a feminine voice. "We're all dreadfully anxious, you know."
Hiram pursed up his mouth, as though reluctant. Then he proposed, grudgingly:
"A committee of two girls might go, if they're sure they'll keep out of the way when we're working. Just two! Which of the young ladies ought we to take, Mr. Prescott?"
"Why, I believe Miss Bentley and Miss Meade will be as satisfactory a committee as can be chosen," Dick smiled.
Some of the girls frowned their disappointment at being left out, but others clapped their hands. Laura and Belle stepped on the scow's platform.
"I wouldn't try to go, if I were you, Dan," urged. Dick, as youngDalzell stepped forward to board the scow.
"I'm all right," Dan insisted.
"Sure you're all right?" questioned Hiram Driggs, eyeing DannyGrin's wobbly figure.
"Of course I am," Dan protested, though he spoke rather weakly.
"Then there's a more important job for you," declared Mr. Driggs. "Stay here on the float with the rest of the young ladies, and explain to them just what you see us doing out yonder."
There was the sound of finality about the boat builder's voice, kindly as it was.
"Cast off," ordered Driggs, taking the tiller. "Tune up that engine and give us some headway."
Clara Marshall was thoughtful enough to run back and get a chair, which she brought down to the float and placed behind Dalzell.
"Sit down," she urged.
"Thank you," said Dan gratefully, "but I didn't need a chair."
Nevertheless the high school girls persuaded him to be seated.
"I—-I wasn't drowned, you know," Dan protested as he sat down.
"No; but you got a little water into your lungs," responded one of the girls. "I heard Mr. Driggs tell Dick Prescott that, as nearly as they could guess, you opened your mouth a trifle just before Dick and Dave reached you and freed you from that awful trap. Mr. Driggs said that if you had been under water two minutes longer there would have been a different story to tell."
"I wonder how long I was under water?" mused Dan.
"Long enough to drown, Danny Grin," replied Clara Marshall gravely.
Meanwhile the scow was making slow headway out into the river and slightly up stream.
"Dick, don't you think this canoeing is going to prove too dangerous a sport for you boys?" asked Laura, regarding him with anxious eyes.
"Not when we get so that we know how to behave ourselves in a canoe, Laura," young Prescott answered.
"Yet, no matter how skilful you become, some unexpected accident may happen at any moment," she urged.
"You wouldn't have us be mollycoddles, would you?" asked Dick in surprise.
"Certainly not," replied Laura with emphasis.
"Yet you would advise us to avoid everything that may have some touch of danger in it."
"I wouldn't advise that, either," Laura contended with sweet seriousness. "But——-"
"You'd like to see us play football some day, wouldn't you?"
"I certainly hope you'll make the high school eleven."
"Football is undoubtedly more dangerous than canoeing," Dick claimed.
"It seems too bad that boys' best sports should be so dangerous, doesn't it?" questioned young Miss Bentley.
"I can't agree with you," Dick answered quietly. "It takes danger, and the ability to meet it, to form a boy's character into a man's."
"Then you believe in being foolhardy, as a matter of training?" asked Laura, with a swift flash of her eyes.
"By no means," Prescott rejoined. "Foolhardy means just what the word implies, and only a fool will be foolhardy. If we had been trying to upset the canoe, as a matter of sport, that would have been the work of young fools."
It was not difficult to locate the spot where the canoe had gone down. The river's current was not swift, and the paddles now floated not very far below the spot where the cherished craft of Dick & Co. had gone down.
"Do you want the services of some expert divers, Mr. Driggs?" asked Dave, turning from a brief chat with Belle Meade.
"Not you boys," retorted the boat builder. "You youngsters have been fooling enough with the river bottom for one day."
"Then how do you expect to get hold of the canoe, sir?" askedTom Reade.
"We'll grapple with tackle," replied Driggs, going toward an equipment box that stood on the forward end of the scow. "We'll use the same kind of tackle that we've sometimes dragged the bottom with when looking for drowned people."
Laura Bentley slivered slightly at his words. Driggs' keen eyes noted the fact, and thereafter he was careful not to mention drowned people in her hearing.
The tackle was soon rigged. Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, who possessed the keenest interest in things mechanical, aided the boat builder under his direction.
Back and forth over the spot the scow moved, while the grapples were frequently shifted and recast.
"Stop the engine," called Driggs. "We've hooked into something!"
Laura turned somewhat pale for a moment; Belle, too, looked uneasy. The same thought had crossed both girls' minds. What if the tackle had caught the body of some drowned man?
"We'll shift about here a bit," Driggs proposed, nodding to the engineer to stand by ready to stop or start the engine on quick signal.
Before long the grappling hook of another line was caught;
"The two lines are about twelve feet apart," Driggs announced."My idea is that we've caught onto two cross braces of the canoe.If so we'll have it up in a jiffy."
Both lines were now made fast to the derrick, in such a way that there would be an even haul on both lines. Belting was now connected between the engine and a windlass.
"Haul away, very slowly," Driggs ordered.
Up came the lines, an inch at a time. Belle and Laura could not resist the temptation to go to the edge of the scow and peer over.
"I see something coming up," cried Belle at last.
"It's the canoe," said Tom Reade, trying to speak carelessly, though there was a ring of exultation in his voice.
Nearer and nearer to the surface of the water came the canoe.
"Now, watch for my hand signal all the time," called Driggs. "I don't want to get the middle part of the canoe more than an inch above the surface."
When the point of the canoe's prow rose above the surface of the water a cheer went up from the scow that carried the news instantly back to the landing float.
Danny Grin stood up, waving his hat and cheering hoarsely, while the girls who surrounded him waved handkerchiefs and parasols.
Then the gunwale appeared just above water along the whole length.
"It will be a hard job to bail her out now," Dave declared.
"Not so hard that it will worry you any," Driggs smiled.
He dragged a pump over, allowing its flexible pipe to rest down into the water in the canoe.
"Now, some of you youngsters get hold of the pump handles," Driggs ordered.
Five high school boys got hold with a will. Gradually, as the water was emptied out of her the canoe rose higher and higher in the water.
There was no cheering, now, from the boys on the scow. They were using all their breath working the pump, while Driggs carefully directed the bottom of the flexible tubing.
"There!" declared Driggs at last. "Barring a little moisture, your canoe is as dry as ever it was, boys. I can't see a sign of a leak anywhere, either. But don't make a practice of tipping it over every day, for I can't afford to leave my work to help you out. There's your canoe, and she's all right."
Dick got hold of the painter at the bow, while Driggs released the grappling tackle.
What a cheer went up from the scow, and what a busy scene there was on the float as the young women jumped up and down in their glee over the good fortune of Dick & Co.
"Now, we'll cruise down and get the paddles," Driggs proposed.
"As soon as we pick up a couple of them, Dick and I can take the canoe and get the rest," Dave suggested.
"You cannot, while the young ladies are with us," Hiram Driggs contradicted. "Do you want to scare them to death by having another upset?"
Laura shot a grateful glance at kindly Hiram Driggs. The scow moved forward, cruising among the paddles until all of them had been recovered.
"Now, Mr. Driggs, won't you stop a moment?" asked young Prescott. "It will be a bit humiliating to be towed into dock. Wait, and let us get into the canoe. We'd rather take it ashore under our own power."
Laura hoped Hiram Driggs would veto the idea, but he didn't.
The canoe was brought alongside, and five boys stepped carefully into it, seating themselves.
"Room for one young lady in here, if we can find a fair way of drawing lots between them," suggested Dick playfully.
"They won't step into the canoe, just now, if I can prevent them," Driggs declared flatly. "You boys want just a few minutes' more practice at your new game before you risk the lives of these girls."
"You're right, I'm afraid, Mr. Driggs," Dick Prescott admitted with a smile. "But, before long, we hope to take out as many of the high school girls as care to step into this fine old war canoe."
"I hope you won't forget that," Belle Meade flashed at him smilingly.
"We won't," Dave promised her. "And you and Laura shall have the first invitation."
"I shall be ready," Laura replied, "just as soon as you boys feel that you can take proper care of us in the canoe."
"You'll have to do your own share of taking care," Tom Reade responded. "About all a passenger has to learn in a canoe is to take a seat right in the middle of the canoe, and to keep to that place without moving about."
Dick & Co., minus Danny Grin, now paddled off, reaching the float some moments before the scow got in.
"Young ladies," said Dick, as he stepped to the float, "I don't know how many of you will care about going out in our canoe, but we wish to invite all who would like it to try a trip within the next few days. Four boys and two girls can go out at a time, and in case of mishap that would leave two good swimmers to look after each girl. We shall be glad if you will permit us to invite you in couples."
Despite the accident of the morning the invitation was greeted with enthusiasm.