The Rival Campers Ashore Part 14

"Hm! Jack Harvey's stronger'n any of them," a.s.serted Jim loyally, eying his stalwart friend, as a canoe pa.s.sed containing Harvey and Henry Burns. "Those other chaps are Jim and John Ellison. They live up on the farm above here. That's what makes 'em strong. But you know Jack. Didn't he make us stand around, aboard the _Surprise_?"

"Well, who's going to win, Tim?" called Tom Harris, as he skilfully turned the canoe paddled by himself and Bob White, to avoid collision with one which held George and Arthur Warren.

"'Spose you think you are," answered Tim, "because you and Bob know how to paddle best. Look out for Jack, though."

Tom Harris laughed. "You'd bet on Jack if he had a broken arm," he said.

"Count us last, I guess," said George Warren, good-naturedly. "We're pretty new at it. Going in for the fun of it. h.e.l.lo, who's this coming?"

"Look out, Jim, it's Benny," exclaimed the elder of the Ellison brothers.

"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied his brother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller than the other.

Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when Benjamin Ellison, strolling lazily down to the sh.o.r.e, paused in the process of devouring a huge piece of mola.s.ses cake and said, in a sneering tone:

"My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps?

What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him--"

He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to sh.o.r.e, and from the bow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder.

"You will tell tales, will you?" he cried.

"Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison's grasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to sh.o.r.e and the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?"

"No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimed John Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him."

Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid hands on the unfortunate Benjamin.

"Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better let him go."

"No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger was aroused.

"Well, only a little one," a.s.sented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. So they held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his head beneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfully as they lifted him out again.

"Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison.

Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully.

"Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head under again.

He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, and he begged for mercy after the second ducking.

"I won't tell," he said.

"Honest?"

"Honest Injun!"

They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field.

"Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed.

"Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to, though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. He hasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Come on, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's no trouble."

The brothers took up their canoe and left the party.

"They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all except Benny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking in to town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?"

"No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see the start in the morning."

"Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while the troop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton.

The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright and clear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a mess of oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet iron stove.

"There they come," cried Tim presently, as the sounds of fresh, boyish voices came from outside. "Hooray! I wish 'twas a yacht race, though.

Wouldn't I go along?"

By nine o'clock the four canoes were fully equipped, drawn up in line off the cabin, and the canoeists, paddles in hand, arms bared, and sweaters tied around the thwarts, were ready to start. Jim and John Ellison were there, a st.u.r.dy pair of farm lads; Jack Harvey, apparently much over-matching his mate in physique, but with something in the slighter figure of Henry Burns that indicated resource and staying powers; Tom and Bob, old and hardened canoeists; and George and Arthur Warren, clean-cut and athletic.

"Ready for the horn!" called Harvey, holding his paddle in his right hand and a long, tin horn in the other.

"All ready!" sang out the canoeists.

Harvey put the horn to his lips and blew a loud, full blast. The paddles struck the water with a vigour, and the race was begun.

The three canoes shot ahead of Harvey's at the start, owing to the slight delay caused him in dropping the horn.

"Let them lead, Jack," said Henry Burns, quietly. "It's a two days'

race. Take it easy."

"That's so," said Harvey, half pausing in a stroke in which he had started to exert his strength to the utmost. "Lucky I've got you. You always keep cool. How do you manage to do it?"

Henry Burns smiled, but made no reply. Instead, he pointed ahead to where the Ellison brothers, putting their strength into their work, were showing several rods of clear water between them and the two nearest canoes, which were going along side by side.

"They've got the race won in the first five minutes," said Henry Burns.

"See Tom and Bob take it easy till they get limbered up."

The two thus indicated were, indeed, setting an example worthy to be followed. They had started off at an easy, regular stroke, one which they could keep up for hours and increase when they should see fit. They were paying no attention to the leading canoe, but were exchanging a word or two with the Warrens, who were striving to imitate their course and pace.

The first mile and a half that intervened between the starting point and the Ellison dam was quickly covered. The Ellison boys, still leading, were out on sh.o.r.e and carrying their canoe up the bank when the others were still some rods away. It was a steep pitch of the sh.o.r.e, and Tom and Bob, when they came to it, took it leisurely, saving their wind. The others followed, in like fas.h.i.+on. Harvey and Henry Burns were the last to make the portage.

Once around the dam, on higher level, the canoes were launched again, and the race continued.

A little way up the sh.o.r.e from the dam, Tom and Bob and the Warren boys, some distance ahead of the rear canoe, saw an odd little figure swinging and swaying in the top of a birch tree overhanging the water. The Ellison boys had pa.s.sed her unnoticed. Her bit of skirt fluttering, and her hair waving, showed that the occupant of this novel swing was a girl.

All at once, to their horror, she seemed to slip and fall. Down she came from her perch, struck the water with a splash and sank beneath the surface.

Tom and Bob, driving their paddles into the water with desperate energy, darted on ahead of the Warren boys, who bent to the paddles and shot after them. The two canoes fairly flew through the water, while the four occupants gazed anxiously ahead over the surface for signs of the girl's reappearance.