"Call that dog away!" ordered Mr. Ripley.
"Willingly, sir," Dick agreed, "now that you have had opportunity to look into all the evidence that we found. Harry, will you do the honors?"
Smiling slightly, Hazelton stepped forward to speak to Towser. That four-footed guardian of the camp displayed some resentment at first over the idea of letting go of Fred's shirt. After a little, however, Hazelton succeeded in getting his dog away and tied to a tree.
Fred rose to his feet, his face fiery red while he trembled visibly.
"What is the meaning of this, young man?" demanded Lawyer Ripley.
"The meaning," choked the lawyer's son wrathfully, "is just this: I was coming by this place this morning in the runabout, when I heard a good deal of coarse laughter down here. I knew the voices weren't those of boys, and so I knew that something must be up. I got out of the car and came over here. I saw two tramps in the camp. They had already cut down the tent, and when I arrived they were planning to cart the food away. Then they saw me as I stepped forward. I told them what I thought of them for thieving in such fashion. Then the tramps got ready to jump on me and thrash me. Just as I raised my hands to defend myself this dog came bounding out of the woods and the tramps ran away. Having no more sense than any other fool dog, the cur pinned me down and held me here."
"All day?" asked his father.
"Yes; I've been a prisoner here for hours," quavered Fred. "And now these fellows want to make out, before the high school friends of mine," nodding toward the girls, "that I was the thief and destroyer."
"That story is straightforward enough," commented the lawyer, turning to the others rather stiffly. "Do any of you wish to challenge it?"
No one spoke.
"I'll tell you what I wish, father," broke in Fred angrily. "I want an order from the court to have that dog seized and shot. He's a vicious and dangerous brute!"
"I think such a court order will be easily obtained," repliedMr. Ripley frigidly.
Harry Hazelton turned pale, clenching his fists, though he had the good sense not to speak just then. The other boys all looked highly concerned.
"Were you bitten by the dog?" asked Dr. Bentley quietly.
"I—-I don't know yet," replied Fred. "I can't tell."
"Mr. Ripley," said Dr. Bentley very quietly, "if you contemplate seeking a court order for having the dog shot, then I suggest that you permit me to take the young man aside and examine him. I am a physician, with a good many years of practice behind me, and any court would pronounce me competent to testify as to whether your son has been bitten, and, if so, to what extent."
"I don't choose to be examined here," Fred declared sulkily. "If I want anything of that sort done our own physician can do it."
"Young man," replied Dr. Bentley, "your father is an eminent lawyer. He is therefore qualified to inform you that if you decline an examination now as to the presence or absence of injuries on your body, your refusal would have to be taken into account in contested court action for the death of the dog."
"Dr. Bentley is quite right, and he has stated the matter accurately," replied Mr. Ripley. "Fred, do you desire to be examined now? If so, we can go away to some secluded spot with the doctor, and with the dog's owner and any other witness desired."
"I don't want to do anything now but to get away from here," replied Fred sulkily. "I want to be rid of Prescott and his friends as soon as possible."
"Very good, then," nodded his father. "You may do as you like, but if you refuse Dr. Bentley's suggestion for an immediate examination you will stand no chance of securing an order dooming the dog."
Fred's further answer was an angry snort as he turned away. His father lingered to say:
"If your suspicions that my son was here improperly are anywhere near correct, then you are entitled to my most hearty apology. Fred is a peculiar and high-strung boy, but I believe his impulses are right in the main. I will add that I believe his account of how he came to be in this strange plight. He took the car early this morning. I am just returning from a spin in our larger automobile. I saw my runabout at the edge of the road and it occurred to me to stop and see if my son were here. Is there anything more to be said about my son's peculiar experience here?"
"Nothing, thank you, Mr. Ripley," replied Dr. Bentley, after a sidelong glance at Dick.
"Then I will bid you all good afternoon," replied Squire Ripley, raising his hat to the women.
Dr. Bentley watched the lawyer out of sight, then turned to Hazelton with a smile.
"Harry," remarked the physician, "your dog won't be shot by order of the court."
It proved a glorious affair, that picnic by the edge of the lake.
Tom and Dan took Clara and Susie out in the canoe to watch them as they fished.
The other four boys fell to with a will, reweaving in new guy ropes and erecting the tent again.
Then firewood was gathered in armfuls and several campfires started.
Just before dark the canoe came in with a cargo of nearly four dozen fish.
These Tom and Dan took to one side and quickly cleaned. Just as Dick and Dave were beginning to realize with some embarrassment that they had nowhere near enough dishes for such an affair, the man from the launch appeared with two baskets of dishes. He then brought up three folding tables and proceeded to set them up, next bringing on campstools. Dr. Bentley had overlooked nothing. Last of all paper lanterns were strung from the trees, and just at dark these were lighted.
Potatoes were set to boil in a kettle. Embers were raked down and corn still in the husks was set in the embers and covered up to roast. Some of the girls sliced more tomatoes than the whole party could eat. Cucumbers, too, were prepared.
Fish were broiled on grates over the fires. All was ready just before dark.
Dick gave the launch man a hearty invitation to join them at supper, the latter shaking his head, expressed his thanks and hurried away.
What an appetizing meal it was! Nothing seemed to have gone wrong.It was a merry party indeed that sat down around the tables.
Suddenly there came an interruption. "Camp! Oh, I say—-camp!" called a gruff voice from the road.
"Here!" called Dick, rising from the table. "Who is it?"
"Any girls there?" demanded the same voice.
"Several," Dick acknowledged.
"Having a picnic, are you?" demanded the strange voice.
"The best ever!" Dick replied heartily.
"Lots of fresh vegetables, too, eh?"
"Ye-es," Dick assented slowly, and with a peculiar feeling. He recalled the laughing talk of the girls about "stealing," and now wondered what was about to happen.
"I guess they're the girls I want, then," continued the voice of the unseen speaker.
Dick & Co. felt a swift spasm of uneasiness, for that voice sounded as though it might belong to the law.
A moment later a roughly dressed man moved down into the circle.
"My name is Dobson," said the new comer, looking hard at the girls. "I reckon you were in my truck garden this afternoon, weren't you?"
"Why—-er——ye-es," admitted Laura, the first to find her voice.She rose and faced Mr. Dobson with a look of budding uneasiness.
"Took lot of my vegetables, didn't you?" pressed the farmer.
"Ye-es," faltered Laura, "but——-"
"Excuse me, miss, but there aren't many kinds of 'buts' about a transaction of that kind," insisted the farmer.
Here, Dr. Bentley, who had looked less concerned than anyone else present, broke in:
"Your name is Dobson?" he asked.
"Not Gibson, then?" pressed the doctor.
"Course my name isn't Gibson, if it's Dobson," retorted the farmer. "There is a man named Gibson who lives 'bout a quarter of a mile from my place."
"Then I imagine I shall have to take you one side and have a little conversation with you," smiled the doctor, rising. "Will you follow me?"
The farmer nodded without speaking and the two men walked away.
Ten minutes later Dr. Bentley returned to the young people.
"I appeased the farmer's wrath," he announced, with a laugh. "And now, young ladies, if my judgment is worth anything, I think it is about time to let the cat out of the bag."
Eight high school girls flushed and looked rather confused.
"Why, has anything wrong been going on?" inquired Mrs. Bentley anxiously, while Mrs. Meade waited breathlessly for the reply.
"Nothing extremely wrong," replied Dr. Bentley. "I will explain what happened. Some of these young ladies, having heard that boys occasionally rob orchards or gardens for a feast, laughingly promised the young hosts of this evening that they would steal the necessary vegetables for to-night's supper. Now, while some boys may sometimes do such things, it is needless to add that no boy with a good home and a mother's training is likely to become engaged in such petty pilfering. I don't believe the boys for a moment credited the girls with any real stealing."
"We didn't," spoke up Dick promptly. "We knew there was a string to the joke somewhere."
"These young ladies consulted me," went on Dr. Bentley. "Of course they wanted the whole matter kept very quiet, and they made me promise secrecy. I told them that I didn't like their plan at all, but they coaxed, and I will admit that I yielded to their coaxing very much against my best judgment. They wanted to be able to say that they hadn't paid the farmer, or made any arrangement whatever with him. That much is true. They didn't approach the farmer—-they sent me. I went to Farmer Gibson and made the arrangement with him for the supplies, paying him in advance a fair price for whatever the young ladies would take out of his garden. Yet, in spite of my care in the matter, and my very explicit directions to them, it seems that they went astray, and descended upon the truck garden of Mr. Dobson, instead of that of Mr. Gibson. Mr. Dobson, not having received any pay, very naturally objected to being looted of his vegetables while Mr. Gibson received the money. But I have been able to explain matters in a satisfactory manner to Mr. Dobson, and have sent him on his ways"
Eight very crestfallen high school girls listened to this recital.
The boys, had they not felt a manly sympathy for their discomfited friends, would have laughed outright.
"I am glad that it is no worse," said Mrs. Bentley in a relieved voice. "At the same time, it was a very silly performance."
"It was," nodded the doctor, who turned to the girls to add:
"My dears, as you succeeded this time in making me your very reluctant accomplice, I am in no position to say very much to you. But I trust you all realize the situation and its outcome, and that you will never allow yourselves to be made ridiculous again in any such way."
"I don't believe we shall," Laura replied. "We felt ashamed of ourselves afterwards, but we were silly enough to feel because we had pledged ourselves to forage for fruit and vegetables that the joke must be carried out."
"Tom Reade," snapped Susie Sharp, "you are just bursting with laughter that you can hardly hold back."
"Not I!" Tom denied promptly. "I am congratulating myself that we boys had sense enough not to take seriously your claim that you had been robbing anyone's garden. As it happened, you did that very thing, but you didn't know it, and you didn't mean to."
There was an embarrassed silence. Then Dick proposed:
"Let's have a good-natured laugh all around and forget the whole thing."
That relieved the awkwardness of the situation. After that a watermelon was cut and brought to the tables.
"Gridley, ahoy!" called a voice across the dark waters.
"Who's there?" called Dick.
"Preston High School Canoe Club. May we visit your camp?"
"Shall I invite them over?" asked Dick, looking at Mrs. Bentley and then at the girls.
Receiving their consent, he called out:
"Come in, Preston High School! Welcome!"
A soft splashing of paddles showed where the visitors were coming in to shore. Dan Dalzell taking the camp lantern, ran to meet them.
A moment later six Preston lads were stepping ashore, one after the other. Dick, having excused himself at table, came forward also to greet them.
Two of the Preston High School boys were already acquainted with Laura Bentley and some of her friends. Introductions followed rapidly.
"Drop into the Gridley seats and have some of the watermelon," Dick pressed the visitors, he and his chums standing in order to do the honors of the occasion.
"It looks as though we had been trying to invite ourselves to a banquet," laughed Hartwell, "big chief" of the Preston High School "Indians." "We didn't mean to seem as rude as that, Prescott."
"All I know," smiled Dick cordially, "is that you are all heartily welcome. Can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?"
"Don't think of it, thank you," begged Hartwell. "We've had our suppers—-dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling 'em. It's jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon passing around."
"Chug! chug! Puff! puff!" sounded the returning launch. Dick glanced apprehensively at Dr. Bentley and the ladies. Did the coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant evening to break up?
"Might I ask where and how you find such delicious watermelons in this neck of the woods?" inquired Brown, of the Prestons.
"Ask the young ladies," piped up Danny Grin, thereby getting himself much disliked for at least the next thirty seconds.
"Dr. Bentley and the young ladies obtained the melons from a farmer," explained Tom Reade, giving Dan an unseen poke in the small of the back.
"These melons look good enough to steal," laughed Hartwell, and was unable to understand the total silence that greeted his assertion.
"Help wanted from a couple of you boys!" called the voice of the launch man.
Four of Dick & Co. raced down to the water's edge. They came back, staggering under a big bucket covered on the top with bagging.
"What is this?" asked Dick.
"Ice cream," explained the doctor. "Mrs. Bentley's suggestion."
"We fellows of Preston High School feel ashamed of ourselves for having intruded," exclaimed Hartwell. "May we be permitted to withdraw?"
"At any time after ten o'clock," smiled Mrs. Bentley graciously."We shall be very much disappointed if you leave us at present."
There was a clatter of dishes and spoons. Mrs. Bentley and Mrs.Meade presided over this part of the camp feast.
"We needn't ask you Gridley fellows if you've been having a good time," declared Hartwell presently. "But we hadn't any idea that we should intrude on an affair of this sort. In fact, while business must be barred now, I will admit that business was the object of our call."
"What sort of business?" inquired Dick Prescott.
"We came to challenge you fellows to a race," explained Big ChiefHartwell.
"A race?" chuckled Dave. "Queer how you've bit us where we live!"
"Do you think you can beat us in a canoe race?" asked Hartwell.
"Yes," Dick rejoined. "All we need to arrange is the date. We'll beat you on any date that you name! That isn't brag, please understand! It's merely the old, old Gridley High School way."
The young ladies applauded this sentiment merrily.
"Want to try us out, Gridley?" hailed Big Chief Hartwell, from thePreston High School canoe.
It was nearly ten o'clock the next morning, but Dick & Co. had just finished putting their camp to rights after breakfast, for they had slept late after the feast.
"Do we want to try you out?" Dick answered laughingly. "Why, we don't have to do that. We shall be ready to hand you a beating, though, at any time you ask for it. We can't help beating you, you know. It's the Gridley way!"
"Brag is a good dog," derided Brown from the bow seat of the Preston canoe.
"We keep both dogs here," Dave shouted tantalizingly.
"Are you coming out to wallop us?" Hartwell insisted.
"Yes; if you insist upon it," Dick agreed. "But we don't like to do it."
"Get into your canoe and come out and see how much of your brag you can make good," was Hartwell's calm reply.
"What? Now?" Prescott inquired.
"'Now' is always the best time to do a thing," declared Mason, of Preston High School.
"Oh, no," smiled Dick, with a shake of his head. "You fellows have been out for some time this morning. You'll have to give us time to warm up properly."
"I didn't suppose Gridley needed a little thing like that," Hartwell taunted. "You Gridleyites are such sure winners, you know, that you ought not to need such a little thing as preparation."
"One of the reasons why Gridley wins," Dick retorted, "is that we always use common sense when entering sporting events. So we'll ask you to oblige us with a gift of our rights in the matter. In fifteen minutes we'll be ready for you."
Gently the canoe was launched in the water. Harry, with a remembrance of yesterday's events, called Towser, saying sternly:
"Stay right here, boy, and watch. Maybe you'll get the rest ofRip's shirt to-day."
"And maybe he won't," chuckled Dave. "That's what I call holding out false hopes to a dog. Rip won't venture within five miles of here to-day. Yet perhaps Towser will bag some other game for us."
"Into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!" called Big ChiefPrescott firmly.
Away went the Gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly.
"Our craft is the 'Pathfinder'," called Hartwell, across the water."What do you call your boat?"
"The 'Scalp-hunter'," smiled Dick. As a matter of fact he and his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the name on the spur of the moment. It made a prompt hit with his chums.
"You don't believe you can win any race with such paddling as yours, do you?" Hartwell called derisively.
"We don't show all our fine points to the enemy until the battle is on," was Prescott's amiable answer. "Even then you won't see all our best tricks; you'll be too busy paddling to keep in sight of us."
Only very gradually did Dick allow his crew to warm up to their work. The Preston boys soon paddled over to the middle of the lake, and there lay resting.
"Now, we'll go back and give them a brush," Dick murmured to his chums. "Don't exceed any orders that I give in the brush. Don't be at all uneasy if we find the Prestons going ahead of us."
"Haven't we got to win?" queried Dave.
"Especially after all the brag we've been throwing in their direction?" Tom supplemented.
"We'll win if we can do it easily," Dick answered. "Otherwise we won't."
"Then what becomes of our Gridley talk?" asked Greg.
"The difference is that this isn't a real race to-day," Prescott explained. "This is only a brush, and we're in it only to see what the Preston boys can show us about canoe handling."
At a rather slow, easy dip, the "Scalp-hunter" ranged up near the "Pathfinder."
"All ready there, Gridley?" called Hartwell rather impatiently.
"As ready as we're going to be," said Dick.
"Flying start, or from a stop?"
"Either," Dick nodded.
"Then," proposed Hartwell, "move along until your prow is flush with ours. When I give the word both crews paddle for all they're worth. Steer for the two blasted pines at the lower end of the lake."
"That's good," Dick agreed.
Very gently the war canoe ranged alongside, her bark sides, well-oiled, glistening in the sunlight. The Preston canoe was not of bark, but of cedar frame, covered with canvas.
Hartwell evidently wanted a wholly fair race, for he even allowed the "Scalp-hunter's" prow the lead of a couple of feet before he shouted:
"Go it!"
Amid a great flashing of paddles the two canoes started. The Preston High School craft soon obtained a lead of a foot or so, and held it. Now the contest was a stubborn one. Gridley gained two feet more.
"You see," called Dick in a low voice, "this is the Gridley way."
"Is it?" Hartwell inquired. "Hanky-pank!"
Plainly enough the last two words were a signal. Though the Preston High School boys did not make much visible change in their style or speed of dip, the "Pathfinder" now gained perceptibly. Within a minute she had a lead of a clean ten feet, and seemed likely to increase the interval.
"Why don't you come along, Gridley?" called back the big chief in the leading canoe.
"Too early," smiled Dick. Nor did he allow the Gridley boys to increase their speed. Presently the "Pathfinder" led by two lengths.
"Why didn't you tell us," Hartwell demanded over his shoulder, "that the much vaunted Gridley way is 'way to the rear?"
"We haven't reached the pines yet, have we?" Dick asked.
"No; and you won't, to-day, unless you push that clumsy tub of yours along faster."
"Don't wait for us," Dick answered goodnaturedly. "We'll be here after a little while."
"We'll wait for you when we land," laughed Hartwell. "Mumble bumble!"
Another secret signal, surely, for again the "Pathfinder" began to increase the distance from the Gridley rival.
"We'd better stop, and pretend we're only fishing," muttered Tom Reade, but Dick kept grimly silent. He was watching every move of the Preston paddlers.
"Why, they're leading us four lengths," muttered Darrin, in an undertone. But Prescott appeared unworried.
"We'll try to brace our speed, by and by," Dick answered.
"And so will the other fellows," Tom surmised. "They're not going at anything like their pace as yet."
For a quarter of a mile the canoes held the same relative position.
"Now, liven up," Dick called softly. "One, two, three, four!One, two, three, four!"
Catching the rhythm, Dick & Co. put in some good strokes, their paddling becoming faster and stronger. A length and a half of the interval was closed up.
"Porky-poo!" ordered Hartwell.
Answering, the Preston High School boys paddled as though fury now possessed them. They held the pace, too.
"Hit it up hard, now," Dick commanded. "One, two, three, four!"
Never had Gridley responded more nobly on any field of sport or other contest than now. The paddles flew, their wet blades gleaming in the air, only to disappear under the water again. Each recovery was swift, prompt rhythmic!
But Hartwell's crew was also showing the stuff of which it was made.
"Stop paddling—-back water!" shouted Hartwell finally.
The "Pathfinder" lay on the water, motionless, only two yards from the shore on which stood the blasted pines.
At that same instant the Gridley High School "Scalp-hunter" was a trifle more than seven lengths astern.
"That was good and warming," smiled Big Chief Dick, as the second canoe came up.
"Yah, yah, yah!" retorted the Preston High School boys, betraying their delight in derisive grins.
"Where is that wonderful, all-conquering way you were telling us about?" chaffed Hartwell.
"You'll find out when we race," smiled Prescott calmly.
"When we race?" repeated Preston's big chief. "Didn't we race just now? Or do you consider that it wasn't a race just because you weren't in it?"
"It wasn't a race," Dick answered. "Merely a brush."
"Brush?" repeated Hartwell indignantly. "Didn't we challenge you fellows, and didn't you accept? Also, didn't you lose?"
"We lost the brush," Dick admitted.
"You lost the race to us," Hartwell declared stoutly. "PrestonHigh School beat Gridley High School by several lengths!"
"Hardly that," Dick retorted coolly. "Preston High School merely distanced some boys from Gridley High School. You didn't defeat a Gridley High School canoe crew."
"Why didn't we?" the Preston High School big chief questioned.
"Because, if you recall all the chat we had last night, the 'Scalp-hunter's' crew isn't yet official. We haven't been authorized by the Athletic Council of Gridley High School."
"Is that the way you get out of it?" blurted Hartwell.
"No," Dick smiled. "That's the way we get Gridley High School out of the charge of defeat. As soon as we're authorized to represent Gridley High School as an official canoe crew, then you may claim any victory you can obtain over us. But you haven't beaten our high school yet for the reason that we don't officially represent Gridley High School. Isn't that all clear?"
"I suppose so," Hartwell assented disappointedly. "But we took it that we were racing the Gridley High School Canoe Club."
"Then after this you want to do more thinking," Dick laughed. "But don't feel too disappointed, Preston. Just as soon as we receive sanction from our Athletic Council we'll give you a race in earnest, and a chance for all the glory you are able to take away from us."
There was some further good-natured talk, after which the two canoe clubs separated.
Dick guided the "Scalp-hunter" back to camp. There, as soon as the canoe had been hauled ashore, Dave Darrin threw himself on the grass, remarking:
"This morning teaches us something! We're in no class with those Preston High School boys. We've no business racing, in the name of our school, before next summer!"
"We'll race within a few days," Dick declared serenely. "We've got to race soon, for our funds won't hold out long and we can't stay here all summer."
"The Athletic Council will thank us for losing the race," murmuredGreg Holmes, ironically.
"We won't lose," Dick maintained, "unless you fellows throw the race against Gridley."
"Throw the race?" echoed Tom Reade indignantly. "Dick Prescott, do you think we'd do a thing like that?"
"I'm sure you wouldn't," their big chief admitted coolly.
"Do you mean to say that we didn't do our best this morning?" questioned Danny Grin.
"Our very best?" added Hazelton.
"We all did the best that was in us—-this morning," Dick went on. "But we'll be a lot better prepared when we get into a real race."
"I don't believe I can paddle any harder than I did at the finish this morning," Reade argued. "In fact, I know I can't. My back aches yet with the work that I did."
"I don't doubt it," Dick smiled. "I know that my back aches."
"Then how are we going to win in any other race against PrestonHigh School?" Darrin asked curiously.
"Did you fellows study the paddling work of the Prestons this morning?" Prescott asked.
"I saw their paddles ahead of us all the time," Greg murmured.
"That was a good place to have their paddles, for study," Dick laughed. "Couldn't you see, from their paddling, why they beat us with ease?"
"No! Could you?" challenged Tom.
"Yes. The Preston fellows dip their paddles better than we do. They dip so that the blade always cuts the breeze, instead of meeting it. When they recover they turn their paddles so as to slip them out of the water without throwing any back strain on the canoe's progress. I was studying their paddling work all the time, and I hoped that you fellows were doing the same."
"The Prestons have a lighter, swifter canoe, anyway," contendedDave.
"I think they have some advantage over us, that way," Dick nodded. "At the same time I am certain that we ought to beat Preston by beating their style of paddling."
"Beating their style of paddling?" echoed Reade. "Why, according to what you've told us we can't even equal their paddling."
"We're going to equal it," Dick answered, "and we ought to beat it. At two o'clock, fellows, we're going out for two hours of drill. Then I'll try to explain what I think I saw of the Preston superiority in dipping and recovery. If I really observed correctly, then we ought to be able to do much better, for I also think I see how to improve on the Preston High School paddle work enough to make their performance look almost clumsy."
"If you can do that," proclaimed Hazelton ungrudgingly, "then you're a wonder, Dick."
"We shall see," smiled the big chief.
"And if we don't see straight," mumbled Reade, "then Preston will hand us such a wallop that we won't even have the nerve to take up a challenge from Trentville High School."
For the rest of the morning Dick & Co. were much more thoughtful than usual. They had met defeat—-a thing they didn't relish. Yet they knew, in advance, how much worse they would feel if they met a defeat when officially entered as a Gridley High School crew—-for the honor of their school was dear to them all.
The noonday meal was over before one o'clock. Dick would not allow the "Scalp-hunter" to be put in the water a minute before two. He wanted to be sure that digestion had proceeded far enough so that they might do their best.
At the time appointed, however, he took the crew out on the water, and there carefully explained what he thought he had learned of the better paddling style of the Preston High School boys.
"You certainly did see a whole lot that I didn't see," Reade admitted, "and I believe that you saw it straight, too, Dick."
"We can certainly shoot the old canoe ahead faster, already,"Dave murmured delightedly.
"Now, Dick, what are the improvements you thought you might have on the Preston style?" Danny Grin asked eagerly.
"To-morrow will be time enough to try out improvements, or any kind of frills," Prescott answered patiently. "For this afternoon let us confine ourselves to paddling as well as the Preston High School fellows do it. To-morrow we'll see if we can't do better than they do."
After a little more practice it was surprising how much more easily they took to the new style of paddling.
"Rest on your paddles for a few minutes," Dick ordered. "Get in some deep breaths. Then I'm going to pump up your speed to the best that you can do with the new stroke. We'll try to go to the hotel landing flying."
When all was ready Prescott gave the word.
"Now, your best speed, and all the strength you can properly put into the work. Go! One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"
Across the lake sped the canoe, Dick & Co. fully aware that they were now traveling at a speed that had been impossible to them that same morning.
"Stop paddling! Back water! Stop backing!"
With deft movements of his own paddle, Dick swung the canoe in gently against the float.
Out of the boathouse near by came Bob Hartwell.
"I've been watching you fellows," he called.
"That's fair enough," Dick answered.
"You're doing some better than you did this morning," Hartwell went on. "You've almost got our stroke."
"Almost?" repeated young Prescott, raising his eyebrows. "Haven't we improved a good deal on your Preston High School action?"
Bob Hartwell began to laugh.
"You fellows from Gridley are always world beaters, aren't you?" he demanded good-humoredly. "At first, I thought it was all brag on your part, and that you fellows were suffering from enlarged craniums complicated with bragitis. But now I begin to see that you talk confidently just in order to convince yourselves that you can't be beaten at anything. And I don't know that it's such bad 'dope,' either, as the sporting writers put it."
"Let's hear you try some," urged Dick.
"Brag?" asked Hartwell. "No; I don't believe I have mastered the idea well enough to do any really sincere bragging as yet. However, if you ever beat us at anything except brag, then I'm going to try to copy your form in the boasting line."
By this time Dick & Co. were dragging their canoe up onto the float.
"I hope Rip isn't sneaking anywhere about these grounds," mutteredDanny Grin.
"Who's Rip?" Bob Hartwell asked curiously. Then: "Oh, I beg your pardon for being too inquisitive," as he saw Dick frown at Dalzell.
"I'm going to remain on the float, while you fellows go up into the hotel grounds," said Tom.
"All of you go, and I'll stay and watch your canoe," suggestedBob Hartwell. "That is, if you're willing to trust me as sentry."
"Of course we're willing," Dick responded. "But it's only right that one of our own crowd should do such work. Are you coming up with us, Hartwell?"
"Why, yes," Bob answered, "if I can't be of any service to you here."
Slowly the boys sauntered up through the walks. Then out on the porch came Manager Wright, waving a yellow envelope.
"That's probably the answer from the Athletic Council of Gridley High School," Dick explained, turning to Hartwell. "You don't mind if I run on ahead and leave you, do you?"
"You may run on ahead and leave me if you're as handy at running as you are at bragging," chuckled Bob. All of the boys in the group were soon at the porch. Mr. Wright descended the steps to hand Dick the envelope.
Dick tore open the envelope hurriedly.
"It's all right!" he called gleefully. "Mr. Howgate sends this word:"
"'Athletic Council approves and sanctions your representing Gridley High School on the water with your Canoe Club. Wish you success! Be careful not to risk lowering Gridley's standard in sports through recklessness.'"
"When do Gridley and Preston race in a regular event?" demandedBob Hartwell promptly.
"Mr. Wright has been most kind to us about several matters," Dick answered. "I'd like to ask him what date will be most satisfactory."
"How can we help Mr. Wright by racing?" queried Hartwell.
"By enabling me to advertise a canoe race between high school boys as an attraction to bring added guests to this hotel," the manager explained for himself. "Let me see. This is Thursday. If the race were to be held day after to-morrow—-saturday—-would that give both crews time enough to get ready?"
"Saturday will suit Gridley," Dick answered promptly.
"And Preston also," guaranteed Bob Hartwell.
"At three in the afternoon on Saturday?" asked Mr. Wright.
"Yes, sir," Prescott nodded. "But will you have sufficient time to advertise, Mr. Wright?"
"Plenty of time," replied the manager, "if I send my letters away by tonight's mail. I will advertise in a Gridley paper, and also in Preston and Trentville. I will send copy to papers in a few other towns as well, and I will see to it that the railway folks know about it. Fortunately the railway people will attend to their own advertising, as it will give them some chance to bring extra passengers. Now, boys, does either crew wish to draw any expense money to help in preparing for the race?"
"Preston High School doesn't want any expense money, thank you, sir," Bob declared quickly. "Our fellows all have abundant funds."
"The Gridley High School crew is a lot of near paupers," Dick admitted with smiling candor.
"Then you may have——-"
"Thank you, Mr. Wright," Prescott went on. "I don't know that we could use money if we had it, but in any case I am certain that we couldn't accept it from the hotel management without risk of sacrificing our standing as amateurs. We might be ruled out as 'professionals' for accepting money for the race."
"Pardon me," broke in Mr. Wright, as a bellboy handed him a telegram.As he read the message a smile appeared on his face.
"Perhaps this will put a different aspect on the matter," beamed the hotel manager. "This telegram is from Mr. Howgate, and says:"
"'Am mailing you check for forty dollars. Please allow Prescott, Captain Gridley High School Canoe Club, to draw on you for that amount, for boat uniforms and other expenses. Money voted by Council from High School Athletic fund.'"
"That's thoughtful," murmured young Prescott, wholly taken aback."However, I don't believe we shall need the money."
"You ought to have some sort of uniform," suggested Hartwell. "WePreston chaps have canoe uniforms."
"We can paddle just as well without special uniforms," smiledDick,
"But how would it look for good old Gridley High School?" hinted Bob generously. "Remember, in appearance, as well as in performance, you have the prestige and honor of your school to consider."
"I think you will do well to accept the money and get uniforms," Mr. Wright declared thoughtfully. "You will have to telegraph for them in order to have them here by Saturday."
"I have the A.B. Lollard catalogue up in my room," suggested Hartwell "I'll run up and get it, and you fellows can look it through and make a quick decision."
"When you have the choice of uniforms made," said Mr. Wright, "write your telegram and bring it to me to sign. The Lollard people know me, and will honor my order."
Now that matters had been arranged so as to be strictly within amateur usages, Dick, Dave and the others found that they had a new cause for interest as they glanced through the bewildering display of uniforms offered in the catalogue.
When the choice had been made Dick turned to young Holmes to say:
"Greg, run down to the landing to relieve Tom, and ask him to hurry up here. We want him, too, to approve our selection or to state his disapproval."
Reade arrived with a breathlessness that testified to his having run all the way. Needless to say, he heartily agreed with his chums as to the uniform selected by them.
The uniform chosen was not expensive. It consisted of sleeveless cotton shirts, white cotton trousers, knee-length, and with a red stripe down the sides, and thin, light boating shoes.
The total cost, per boy, was three dollars and eighty-three cents. Certainly not an expensive canoeing uniform! There would be some express charges to pay in addition.
"You'll have about fifteen dollars left for anything else that you may need," suggested Mr. Wright.
"Yes; but we don't wish to spend it," Dick replied. "It is only the thought of the Gridley High School that makes us decide on any uniform at all."
"You couldn't have been more modest," smiled Bob Hartwell, as he thought of the more expensive uniforms of his own crew.
The telegram was prepared. Mr. Wright signed it and sent it away. Then he hastened to his office to prepare his own advertising matter.
As the Gridley girls were nowhere to be seen about the grounds, Dick did not inquire for them. Instead he and his chums hurried back to the lake, where they put in another hour in hard practice. Prescott kept his crew out on the lake, in about the middle, where his low—-spoken directions could not be heard from the shore.
"Are we going to win, now?" asked Dan Dalzell.
"How can we help it, when we are to wear such dazzling uniforms?" queried Reade.
"We've got to do a lot of hard work tomorrow, and on Saturday morning," Dave added. "I doubt if we yet paddle anywhere near the Preston High School performance."
"We'll work hard to-morrow," Dick agreed, "but after that we will have to be satisfied with what we've done. Saturday morning we don't want to do any hard work. Just enough exercise to keep our muscles supple for the real fray of the afternoon."
"We ought to stay out longer now," urged Hazelton.
"Do you fellows think so?" asked Dick thoughtfully. "It seems to me that we've done enough hard canoe work for to-day. We don't want to go stale from too much training."
"But we can't—-we mustn't lose the race on Saturday," almost groaned Dave Darrin.
"Then we'll do better not to overtrain," said Dick quietly. "UnlessI hear a big kick I'm going to turn the canoe toward our camp."
There was no objection, though some of the members of Dick & Co. frowned slightly. They had great confidence in Dick's judgment, yet he seemed to them over cautious in training.
"I wish it were Saturday night," murmured Tom Reade, lying on the grass full length, after they had landed.
"So that you'd know how it feels to be licked and to have your school licked, too?" inquired Danny Grin.
"Stop that talk!" ordered Tom gruffly. "We're not going to be beaten. We'd hardly dare show our faces again in Gridley if Preston High School took us into camp."
"Then how will the Preston fellows feel if we distance 'em?" Greg inquired.
"Oh, it won't matter as much over at Preston," Tom replied coolly. "Preston hasn't such a big reputation for winning athletic events as Gridley has."
"The more I think of it," muttered Dave, "the more I marvel at our cheek. We are barely more than freshmen. As yet we've entered the sophomore class only by promotion. Yet we get away from home and immediately start in to fight under the Gridley colors, just as though we were real juniors or seniors! My, but I'll hate myself if we get walloped Saturday afternoon!"
"We'd all dislike ourselves," smiled Dick Prescott calmly. "That is why we haven't any thought of allowing ourselves to be beaten, either by Preston or Trentville."
"I wonder if Trentville is as good as Preston?" asked Tom curiously.
"We can't tell until we see them work," suggested Greg.
"Who's going to eat, and when?" asked Dan. That started the crowd to making preparations for the camp supper. It was prepared in good time, and six healthy boys sat down to enjoy it. After that came a period of blissful idleness. Then, more or less reluctantly, the youngsters set about washing the dishes and setting the camp straight in general.
"Better throw some wood on the fire; it's getting pretty dark," suggested Dick. "I'll get the lantern and light it."
Gr-r-r-r-r! came the voice of Towser, in the near distance. It was followed by barks and yelps, all in the voice of Hazelton's bull-dog.
"What trouble has the pup gotten into?" demanded Harry, throwing an armful of wood on the campfire, then wheeling sharply.
Gr-r-r-r! Wow-wow! Woof! sounded closer at hand, accompanied by considerable noise in the underbrush.
"That pup's in trouble," declared Tom sagely. "Come along, fellows!Bring the lantern, Dick!"
Six boys, headed by Dick with the lantern, went to meet the bull-dog. They came upon Towser, growling in a most excited manner, threshing something about him in the bushes as he came toward them.
"Hold still, boy!" commanded Harry. "What is it, old chap?"
Then he came upon the dog. In the darkness it was not easy to make out what ailed Towser. But Prescott came closer to the dog with the lantern.
"Towser has his foot caught in a steel trap. I'm afraid his leg is broken," quivered Hazelton, as he threw himself on the ground beside his pet. "Hold still, boy! Let me take it off of you."
The dog permitted himself to be held while Tom Reade pried open the jaws of the steel fox trap, the chain to which the pup had dragged over the ground.
"That's a queer accident," commented Greg Holmes.
"Accident?" flamed Harry. "This thing is no accident. It was done on purpose, and I wouldn't need but one guess to name the two-legged cur that did this!"
All of the boys understood at once that Hazelton was accusingFred Ripley of setting the trap.
Towser, as soon as released, limped a little, but proved that his leg was not broken, though it had been cut in the trap.
"Woof!" he exploded angrily, as soon as he found that he could run about on his injured leg. Then, showing his teeth, he growled menacingly and bounded through the woods, Dick & Co. following pell-mell.
"Towser knows that his enemy is still near!" called Harry exultantly."Come on, fellows! We'll catch that sneak!"
A bull-dog's strong point is not his scent. He led the boys to the roadway, then halted, growling, plainly at fault.
Perched up in a tree not fifty yards away, well hidden by the foliage, were Fred Ripley and another youth. For a few moments they listened breathlessly to the pursuit, then appeared to feel more at their ease.
"You didn't work the trap trick quite right," whispered Fred to the youth in overalls beside him.
"Better luck next time," whispered back the stranger. "But no matter. I see how we can fix the canoe so that it couldn't win a race against a mudscow!"
"There's an automobile full of Gridley folks coming up to the lake to-day!" cried Susie Sharp excitedly as she ran to meet her girl friends at the landing stage.
"How do you know?" asked Laura eagerly.
"Mr. Wright has just received a telephone message, asking that arrangements be made to give them supper here. They're going back in the evening."
"Dick will be so pleased!" cried Laura. "All of our boys will be delighted, I imagine," replied Susie dryly.
"Of course; that is what I meant," explained Laura, flushing slightly.
"I know. You think that Dick Prescott is the only boy at LakePleasant," teased Miss Sharp.
"Stop that!" begged Clara Marshall. "Don't talk nonsense."
At one end of the float lay the "Pathfinder." At the other end lay the "Scalp-hunter," as shining as a thorough overhauling and a coating of oil could make her.
Over the latter canoe the Gridley High School girls had posted themselves as a sort of guard of honor.
Not that there was any suspicion that either of the canoes would be tampered with. High school and college sports are "clean." No underhanded tricks are resorted to by competitors for the sake of winning.
In the boathouse near by sat the members of both crews, mingling on the most friendly terms. With them were some of the officials of the race.
Dotted along the water front of the hotel grounds were many little groups of waiting spectators in chairs, on campstools or sitting on the grass.
In the morning buoys had been set on the lake at each end of a measured course. The course was to be a mile, around the upper buoy and returning to the starting line. The usual rules of boat and canoe racing were to apply as to clear water, fouling and the like, as well as the right of way at the upper buoy in case the rival canoes were close together.
"It's half-past two o'clock now," announced the starter, glancing at his watch.
"At two-forty," stated the referee, "I shall order both canoes into the water. As soon after that as each crew captain chooses he may put his men aboard and take such warming-up work as he may wish. At two-fifty-six the first gun will be fired, and both crews must come promptly to the judges' boat for alignment. At exactly three the second shot will be fired—-the starting signal. Has either captain any questions to ask?"
Neither captain had any questions.
"Let me know, time-keeper, when it is two-forty," said the referee, going toward the door. "Both captains will be on the alert to avoid delays."
As the referee glanced out he saw that at least four hundred spectators were on hand. Two stage loads of men, woman, boys and girls had already arrived from Preston. Trentville also had sent a delegation.
"What's all that yelling with 'Gridley' in it?" cried Dick, jumping up and moving toward the door.
He was followed by his chums. They reached the float in time to see the automobile bus from Gridley coming down to the water front. In it were some thirty people of all ages.
"Oh, you Prescott!" yelled one irrepressible young man, through a megaphone. "Don't you dare make fools of us this afternoon! Gridley must win!"
"Don't worry!" Dick shouted back, waving his hand. "Gridley is going to win!"
"Yes, sirree!" called Bob Hartwell, laughingly. "Preston HighSchool guarantees Gridley to be a winner—-for second place!"
People now came crowding down upon the float to such an extent that Mr. Wright had to use the services of four hotel employs in coaxing them to keep back out of the way of the crews.
"No further admittance to the float, ladies and gentlemen!" called the hotel manager. "Keep it clear for the use of the crews!"
"Remember, Prescott," shouted a voice, "nothing but a win!"
"That's the Gridley way," Dick called back.
"Crew captains!" shouted the referee. "Ready to launch your craft!Time for a bit of preliminary practice."
"Take hold and launch!" cried Bob Hartwell, running forward.
Over into the water went the Preston High School canoe with a splash. The Preston boys began to fill their places.
"Gridley, stand by to launch!" called Prescott, "Slide her in, easily!"
As graceful as a thing of life the big war canoe slipped into the water, then lay there like a swan. Dave Darrin took hold of the bow-line, the pretty craft resting lightly against the float.
"Aren't you going to take your men out and warm them up, Prescott?" asked Referee Tyndall.
"No, sir; only for the last five minutes. We want only work enough to start the blood to moving well."
So only Dave stood by the canoe. Hatless, the Gridley High School boys paced up and down the float, awaiting word from Big Chief Prescott before embarking.
"I wish Dick would put our boys to work at once," murmured Belle uneasily. "Look what a fine showing Bob Hartwell's Preston fellows are making out there."
In truth the Preston boys were making a splendid showing with their brisk, steady, sturdy paddling. Many a cheer went up from shore for them.
"Time for us, Gridley," announced Prescott, when some minutes had passed.
Alertly his chums sprang to their posts. In a twinkling they were seated, each with his paddle in hand, holding lightly to the float.
"Shove off," said Dick, in a very low voice. As the "Scalp-hunter" started for the middle of the lake a wild Gridley yell broke loose.
But none of the boys paid heed. Each had his ears alert only for the orders of the captain.
Somehow, as the canoe moved out, each one had the same feeling.The "Scalp-hunter" was not moving quite as it should do.
"There is at least one of you fellows who isn't doing all he should, or just as he should," Dick murmured quietly. "Which one is it?"
There was no immediate response, though all five of the boys gave renewed attention to their work. Still, all of them had the same uneasy impression that there "was a screw loose somewhere."
"It's just as though we had a drag holding us back," Dick muttered disappointedly.
"Perhaps it's only because we're not quite warmed up yet," Tom hinted.
"No; it isn't that," Prescott responded. "I wish I knew just what does ail us. Take the second speed, fellows, and each of you watch his dip and recovery. Remember, it's the disciplined paddling that wins a canoe race."
At the next speed they went forward a little faster, to be sure.Yet there was a decided lack of speed or a pull-back somewhere.
"Don't lose your nerve, Gridley!" floated Hartwell's voice over the water as the Preston canoe shot by at a wind-jamming speed.
"Want a tow, Gridley?" hailed someone from shore.
"Next speed, fellows! Hit it up hard," called Dick Prescott.Perspiration from extreme nervousness broke out on his forehead.
Strive as he would, the crew captain of the Gridleys could not shake off the gloomy depression that assailed him. Something was wrong—-radically wrong! The "Scalp-hunter" was not showing a winning gait!
"Best speed—-and work, fellows!" called Dick, as quietly as ever, though in his voice there was a note almost of despair.
Now, indeed, the Gridley craft sped through the water. Yet all of her crew, and many people on shore, realized that the war canoe was not showing a prize-taking gait.
How Dick, Dave, Tom and the others worked, bending all their energies to the task! Yet all felt the same awful doubts.
Bang! The first gun had sounded.
"Down to the line, fellows!" Dick called. "Put in all the steam you can. I was wrong not to have warmed you up before. Get your blood to moving. One, two, three, four! Hump it! Hump it!"
Their bodies streaming with perspiration, breath coming fast, their faces deeply flushed, Dick & Co. bent to their paddling. They were moving fast, yet not as fast as they should be moving and back.
"What on earth can ail our boys?" cried Laura Bentley anxiously as she watched.
"They're moving fast," replied Clara Marshall.
"Yet not the way they should move," Laura insisted. "There's nothing about them of the easy, brisk form that Preston High School shows to-day."
"Don't hint at defeat!" shuddered Belle Meade. "We might be able to stand a Gridley defeat, but the boys couldn't."
Preston's canoe now rested on the water, ready to be aligned at the referee's order. Gridley's craft seemed to be straining as she neared the line.
Suddenly three sharp, short, shrill blasts sounded from the whistle of the judges' launch.
"Prescott!" roared the referee.
"Now, what's up, I wonder?" Dick asked himself, with another sinking feeling at heart.
The judges' boat was making fast time toward the Gridley HighSchool entry.