Fred Fenton on the Crew Part 21

"Shucks! I should say not," replied the grinning Bristles; "but do take pity on a poor fellow, Fred, and tell me the whole story. Who stole the opals?"

"Gabe Larkins, the butcher's boy," replied the other, soberly.

"You don't say?" was Bristles' comment, after he had given a whistle to emphasize his astonishment. "And yet, after all, I oughtn't to be much surprised, because I happen to know he's always reading the sporting page of the city paper his mother takes; and I've heard him even talking about horse races and betting. But, however in the wide world did you get on to him; and does Aunt Alicia know it all?"

"I think she's with your mother at this minute, telling her how sorry she is for suspecting you; and also what she means to do for you in the future to make it up. Now listen, and I'll make your eyes open a little, I reckon, Bristles."

"Never heard the like of it in all my life!" declared Bristles, when the narrative had reached its conclusion with the detection of Gabe in the act of adding his morning's spoils to the balance of the plunder which he had hidden in the old hollow oak. "I'll never pa.s.s that tree without thinking of what you've just told me. Gee! I'm glad I wasn't in Gabe's shoes when Aunt Alicia caught him. I can just see the look of fury in her snapping black eyes."

"You're wrong there, Bristles," said Fred, quickly. "Unless I'm mighty much mistaken there were tears in her eyes, when she looked down at Gabe cowering there. Your Aunt Alicia is a different woman these days from what you used to believe her. She's seen a light. She knows there are boys, and then again boys; and that not all of them are alike in everything."

"But what can I say to you, Fred, for getting me out of this pickle?"

continued Bristles, with a quiver in his voice, as he squeezed the hand of his chum. "Only for you, look what would have come to me? I owe you a heap, sure I do; and I only hope the chance will come some day to show you how much I feel it."

"Oh! let up on that sort of talk, Bristles," said Fred, laughingly.

"You'd have done just as much for me, or any of your chums, if the chance came your way; and you know it."

"You just better believe I'm going to keep on the watch to pa.s.s this along," declared the other, fervently.

"That's the way to talk," Fred remarked, looking pleased at being given the opportunity to bring happiness to one he thought so much of as Bristles; "and perhaps you'll be able to pull a better oar, now that this load is off your mind."

"Why, Fred, believe me," said Bristles, soberly, "I feel right now as though I'd be able to put more vim into my work than ever before in all my life. Wow! if I had wings I could hardly seem more like flying, my heart is that light!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE START OF THE RACE

The great day of the boat race between Riverport and Mechanicsburg opened with a clear sky. This made happy the hearts of the hundreds of young people belonging to the two towns on the Mohunk River.

Daily the husky crew of the town up the river had been busily engaged in practicing; and all sorts of ominous rumors were current among the more timid Riverport boys and girls as to the astonis.h.i.+ng speed they had shown.

But when those who had faith in the ability of their own crew to come in ahead heard these tales, they only laughed, and nodded, as though they felt no fear. As to the ability of their rivals to "make circles"

around the boys of Riverport, did they not realize that these stories were being industriously circulated for the very purpose of making them count the race lost even before it was started?

The clever coach, Corney Shays' father, warned them against believing anything of this sort. He said it was an old trick, and had been used by college men as far back as he could remember.

"Just believe you can do the job up clean, and pay attention to everything your c.o.xswain tells you; and it'll come out right," he declared.

Early in the afternoon crowds began to a.s.semble along the banks of the river, where the course had been marked off. Those in charge, being a committee of older pupils from each school, had taken all necessary precautions looking to having a clear course. They had also marked the turning point, where the rival boats must start on the return trip toward the home goal.

This latter was a boat anch.o.r.ed in the middle of the river, and bearing a large red flag, with the words "Stake Boat" in white. Each contestant had to turn this, without fouling, in heading for home; and the one capable of accomplis.h.i.+ng this with as little waste of time and distance as possible would gain an advantage that might count heavily in the final result.

It was indeed a gay scene about half-past three that afternoon; the time of the race being scheduled for four exactly. Thousands of people lined both banks of the river, for the entire country had become deeply interested in the result, and taken sides, one way or the other.

While Paulding had no proper boat club as yet, evidently every boy and girl attending school there, together with many older persons, had flocked to witness the sight of a river regatta so near at hand.

School flags were waving everywhere, and cla.s.s cheers accompanied their appearance, as the young people gathered in groups, the better to chant their patriotic songs.

When the long sh.e.l.l from above came speeding down to the starting point, the occupants were given a rousing welcome from friends and foes alike. For everybody admired the game, sportsmanlike qualities of those Mechanicsburg fellows.

"Who are they all, Flo?" asked Cissy Anderson, as she cuddled down alongside her chum, who was using a field gla.s.s; the girls being in the midst of a group that had a particularly fine place for witnessing the start and close of the race.

"Oh! we know everyone of them, because they've figured in the battles on the diamond and the gridiron," replied Flo.

"Wagner, of course, is among them; they say he has been made the c.o.xswain of the Mechanicsburg crew; and then there must be Sherley, who was such a dear captain in their football games last fall; yes, and Waterman and Gould, too."

"That's right, Cissy," the girl with the gla.s.ses continued; "and Hennessy is stroke oar, for I can tell him by his big, bushy crop of hair. He makes me think of Bristles Carpenter, who, they say, is pulling a wonderful oar these days. Let's see, there's Harkness, too, and Boggs--how many is that, Cissy? Just six oarsmen, you say? Well, I can see Smith there, I'm sure; and the other, why, of course it's that fussy Bob Jones. Don't they look splendid; and how evenly they pull."

"You don't think now, for a minute, do you, Flo, that they can beat our boys?" the other girl asked, somewhat fearfully.

"Of course I don't, silly," replied Flo, who had the utmost confidence in the sterling ability of Fred and his fellows to hold their own, no matter whether on the football field, the baseball diamond, in a hotly contested hockey match on the ice, a s...o...b..ll battle, or in athletic sports; and consequently in aquatic matters as well.

"There comes Sid and the rest!" exclaimed Cissy; just as though, in her eyes at least, the whole chance of success for the Riverport boys lay in the stalwart figure of Sid Wells alone.

As Brad Morton led his eight spa.r.s.ely-clad young oarsmen from the new building, bearing the glistening and carefully kept sh.e.l.l on their shoulders, a cheer started that gained force as it ran along the crowds lining the banks of the river, until it died away far in the distance.

It had been decided to use the up-river course. And as the stake boat, which was to mark both the start and finish, was directly opposite Riverport, the turning point upstream must be just a mile and a half away; for the course was intended to represent exactly three miles, which was considered a long enough pull for young crews.

The first half would be against the strong current of the Mohunk, now pretty high for the beginning of summer; but when the two rival boats had made the turn, they could come down with greater speed. It was this rush along the home stretch that all of the spectators were most anxious to witness. And this accounted for the throngs on both sh.o.r.es of the river near where the boat containing the judges of the race was anch.o.r.ed.

It was now getting very close to four o'clock, and everybody began to breathe with eagerness, and possibly a little anxiety. No matter how loud the adherents of each school may have shouted for their colors, when it came right down to a question of supremacy the opposing crew began to loom up as a very dangerous factor; and they felt a faintness come into their hearts while watching the splendid way the rival eight carried themselves.

"They're getting them placed in line!" shouted a small fellow, who carried a megaphone almost as long as himself, and through which his voice carried as far as a mile, when he strained himself to give a yell.

This was a cousin of tall, long-legged Colon, and whose name of Harrison had long ago given way to that of Semi-Colon, to distinguish him from his big relative.

"Look at poor old Buck Lemington; would you?" remarked another, close to the bevy of girls around Flo Temple and Cissy Anderson. "He's in an ugly humor to-day, because he threw away his chance to be pulling an oar in our boat, and went off to get up a boat club of his own."

"And then smashed his sh.e.l.l on a snag the first thing," continued Semi-Colon, who had heard what was said.

"Wasn't it just like him to try and say poor Clem Shooks was to blame, when everybody knows it must have been only Buck's fault, because he didn't remember about that stump under the water," one of the girls remarked.

"And I even guess he'd have cared precious little if our boat had been burned up, when some of those tramps, they say, tried to set things on fire," a second girl broke out with; which remark appeared to amuse Semi-Colon very much, for he roared through his megaphone the word:

"Tramps! Ha! Ha!"

Evidently, while officially it had been decided to keep secret the facts connected with the finding of the bottle of kerosene and the rags, at the time Conrad Jimmerson was caught in Colon's trap, enough had leaked out among the boys connected with Riverport school to give them a pretty fair idea Buck must have been the leading spirit behind the miserable game.

"Silence there! the referee wants you to keep still while he says something to the crews!" roared a heavy voice through a megaphone.

"He's going to advise 'em what not to do," broke out Semi-Colon, for the benefit of the girls; "and that a willful foul with carry a penalty. There goes Coach Shays in that little launch; he's going to get in that car belonging to Judge Colon, and be whirled along the road, which keeps pretty near the river all the way. So you see, he can every little while shout out his directions to the c.o.xswain."

"There, the referee is talking to them now," said Flo Temple, plainly excited, since the critical moment was at hand. "Oh! don't I just hope our boys will leave them away behind right in the beginning! Because, they say that the first one around the turning boat will have a big advantage. Every second on the down-current will put yards between them, that the second boat may never be able to make up."