Part 7 (1/2)

”This one has been strained and cracked. An extra hard pull on it, and it would give out.”

A murmur arose.

”Who did this?”

”Some enemy wants Jerry to lose, sure!”

How the blade had got into that condition was a mystery.

But now was no time to speculate on the affair. A new set of blades must be procured at once.

Luckily there was a pair belonging to a private party to be had. They were just the same size and weight.

”I would rather have my own, but I'll make these do, and beat them in spite of all,” said Jerry.

At a given signal six of the boat club boys marched down the float carrying Jerry's sh.e.l.l, which had been polished and oiled until it shone like a mirror.

With a faint splash the sh.e.l.l dropped into the water. Then Jerry ran down and stepped in. His feet were ”locked,” and the oars were handed over.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SINGLE Sh.e.l.l RACE.]

”Hurrah for Jerry Upton!”

”He's the boy to win!”

”Hurrah for Si Peters!”

”Jerry won't be in it with Si!”

”He will!”

”Never!”

And so the talking and the shouting ran on.

Meanwhile Si Peters had emerged from the landing at a private boathouse some distance up the lake sh.o.r.e.

He received a hearty shout as he moved slowly over to the starting point.

Si Peters won the choice of positions, and, of course, took the inside.

The race should have been a mile straightway, but the original challenge which led to the race had been for a half mile going and the same coming.

Soon the two boys were in position.

”Ready?”

There was a dead silence.