The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview

Excerpt

CHAPTER I.

JERRY, HARRY, AND BLUMPO.

“I’ll race you.”

“Done! Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Then off we go.”

Quicker than it can be related, four oars fell into the water and four sturdy arms bent to the task of sending two beautiful single-shell craft skimming over the smooth surface of the lake.

It was a spirited scene, and attracted not a little attention, for both of the contestants were well known.

“Go it, Jerry! You can beat him if you try!”

“Don’t let him get ahead, Harry. Keep closer to the shore!”

“How far is the race to be?”

“Up to the big pine tree and back.”

“That’s a full mile and more. I’ll bet on Jerry Upton.”

“And I’ll bet on Harry Parker. He has more skill than Jerry.”

“But Jerry has the muscle.”

“There they go, side by side!”

And thus the talking and shouting went on along the lake front. Most of the boys present were members of the Lakeview Boat Club, but there were others of the town there, too, as enthusiastic as the rest.

It was a clear, warm day in June. The summer holidays at the various institutes of learning in the vicinity had just begun, so many of the lads had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.

There were not a few craft out besides the two shells to which we have drawn attention. But they drew out of the way to give the racers a free field.

On and on went Jerry and Harry until the big pine was reached. Then came the turn, and they started on the home stretch side by side, neither one foot ahead of the other.

“It’s going to be a tie race.”

“Pull, Harry! Let yourself out!”

“Show him what you can do, Jerry!”

Encouraged by the shouts of their friends, both boys increase their speed. But the increase on both sides was equal, and still the boats kept bow and bow as they neared the boathouse.

“It’s going to be a tie, sure enough.”

“Spurt a bit, Jerry!”

“Go it for all you’re worth, Harry!”

Again the two contestants put forth additional muscle, each to out-distant his opponent, and again the two row-boats leaped forward, still side by side.

As old Jack Broxton, the keeper of the boathouse, said afterward: “It would have taken twelve judges, sitting twelve days, to have told which had the advantage.”

The finishing point was now less than five hundred feet distant, and in a few seconds more the race would be over. The crowd began to stop shouting, almost breathless with pent-up interest. It was surely the prettiest race that had ever been rowed on Otasco Lake.

Splash!

The splash was followed by a splutter, and then a frantic cry for help. A portion of the high float in front of the boathouse had unexpectedly given way, and a short, stocky, reddish-black youth had gone floundering over board.

“Blumpo Brown has gone under.”

“It serves him right for standing away out on the edge of the float.”

“Help! Help!” cried the youth in the water. “Hold on, Harry! Jerry, don’t run into me!”

Alarmed by the cries, the two racers turned around, easing up on their oars as they did so....