Part 16 (2/2)

CHAPTER IX

AN EXCITING FINISH

When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there was a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White.

Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisons fully a mile.

Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for carrying it out.

But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way that could not be equalled by less trained rivals.

Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they, too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glance back over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with a sharper thrust, and the canoe would respond to the fresh endeavour.

”They'll gain some,” said Henry Burns once, calmly. ”We can't help that.

They've had too many years of it, not to be able to set a stronger pace.

But they can't catch us in one afternoon. If they do, we're beaten.

We'll hold some of our advantage, eh, Jack?”

”You bet we will!” exclaimed Harvey, jabbing the water savagely. ”I'm going to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt.”

So saying, he called to his companion to ”give it to 'em lively,” and they set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceed the speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as that would not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into their normal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more.

The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill and endurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell off slower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, their muscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond to the call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bob were gaining on both.

On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessary according to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing they were gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionable rapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob and the Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty.

Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certain Tom and Bob must have overtaken and pa.s.sed their rivals. But now the time for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presently Harvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Four blasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answering blasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoes headed for sh.o.r.e. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in the lead.

But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoe there was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey and Henry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more.

Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craft and the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddled gamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind the leaders.

Leaving their canoes drawn up on sh.o.r.e, at precisely the spot where each had been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shook hands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy.

”But look out for to-morrow,” said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking a fist at Jim Ellison.

They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of three bamboo poles, standards and cross-piece, and a thin, unbleached cotton ”A” tent, and quickly pitched the four tents on a level piece of ground, in a semi-circle. The tents were flimsy affairs, light to carry, and would not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it was clear and no danger of a wetting.

Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoe furnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail for boiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon for frying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the open s.p.a.ce in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and the coffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced in the ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowing coals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, just out of reach of burning.

The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire, hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all was ready, and they had removed the feast away from the warmth of the fire, piling on more wood and making it blaze up brightly for its cheer.

Then they fell to with amazing appet.i.tes; and the amount of crisp bacon and hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled the proprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he had had to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-by pastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, they were ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of the first stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, each rolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf.

”Well?” remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up and looking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harvey gave a yawn, stretched and roused up. ”I feel fine,” he answered. ”Lame any?” ”Not a bit,” replied Henry Burns.

Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bob already up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed.

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