be sure I am.”
“Well, I hope you win something.”
The day was a cool, bracing one, an ideal day for boat racing, and immediately after the midday meal the oarsmen turned out in force and the lake front was alive with craft of various sorts. The races had been talked of for two weeks and several sloops and a steam launch came up from Cedarville bringing parties to view the contests. Some boats also came from across the lake, and flags flapped gayly in the moderate breeze.
The first race was a four-oared affair between the smaller boys, and much to the surprise of everybody it was won by Mumps and a lad named Cathby.
“Hullo, I didn’t know Mumps could row so well,” cried Pepper.
“He comes from a town on the Hudson River, and was brought up around boats,” answered a cadet standing near. “His folks own several sailboats, so I’ve been told.”
“Well, he deserves credit for winning, even if he is a sneak,” declared Jack.
The next race was an eight-oared affair, between crews made of Stuffer, Hogan, Blackmore, and a number of others already mentioned in these pages. This was lost by the crew led by Stuffer.
“Stuffer had been eating too much,” said Pepper. And the always-hungry lad afterwards admitted that this was true.
The third race was a four-oared affair between Jack, Pepper, Andy, and Joe Nelson on one side, and Paxton and several chums on the other. Baxter had been expected to row in this, but fell out at the last moment, stating he was not well. Privately, he was afraid of losing, for he knew Jack and his friends were good oarsmen.
The race was for a mile, and at the discharge of a pistol both crews started in fine shape.
“Go it, Paxton!” was the cry. “You can win if you try!”
“Pull, Pepper, pull!”
“Make every stroke tell, Jack!”
On and on swept the two boats, and for the first half of the course kept side by side.
“It’s going to be a tie race!”
“Pull, Paxton! Pull, Leeds!”
“See, Paxton’s boat is going ahead!”
It was true – slowly but surely the craft went forward, until it was a full length in advance. Jack, Pepper, and the others were doing their best but the other boat continued to keep in the lead.
“I see a rope trailing behind!” cried Pepper suddenly.
“There it goes,” added Andy. “It was caught on the bottom.”
“All together, and give her tar!” shouted Jack, shutting his teeth hard. “Pull, boys, pull!” And they did pull as never before.
But quarter of a mile of the race remained, and now Jack’s boat was crawling up to the rival craft.
“See, Paxton’s boat is but half a length ahead!”
“They are tie again!”
“Pull, everybody, and may the best crew win!” came from a gentleman in one of the sailboats.
“Oh, pa, I hope that last boat wins,” cried a girl in the sailing craft, a fine small yacht.
“So do I, Laura,” came from a second girl.
“Why, Flossie?” questioned her father, with a smile.
“Oh, I don’t know. They look nicer than the boys in the first boat.”
“Really? You have sharp eyes, I must say.” And then Mr. Ford, for such was the gentleman’s name, turned to the race once more.
Jack, Pepper, Andy, and Joe Nelson were working like steam engines, and the same may be said of their opponents. On and on swept the two rowboats toward the finish line. There was a wild yelling along the lake front and from the various boats gathered around.
“Come, we must win!” shouted Joe Nelson, and seemed to suddenly wake up. Jack and the others also renewed their exertions, and now their spurt carried them a foot in the lead.
“Here they come!”
“Jack Ruddy’s boat is ahead!”
“Paxton is crawling up again!”
It was true, the rivals were also spurting, and for a moment the two craft were side by side once more. But Paxton’s crew could not keep up the terrific pace, and suddenly they fell back, and Jack and his friends shot over the line winners by a full length.
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