The Boat Race Plot That Failed

By GRAHAM B. FORBES

AUTHOR OF "THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH," "THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND," ETC.

NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1911, by GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Boys of Columbia High on the River

CHAPTER I

RUN DOWN

"I call it a punk boat, Frank, to go back on us like this!"

"Well, it does seem a bit rough, Lanky, that's a fact."

"Rough? Wow! here we are, marooned like a couple of innocent babes on Rattail Island, and two big miles from home! Rough!"

Lanky Wallace put on one of his most woe-begone looks as he bent over to help drag the boat out of the river, and up on a shelving shore.

Frank Allen, his chum, laughed as though more amused than distressed.

"I agree with every word you say, old fellow—all but that innocent babe part. That's drawing it too strong for my blood," he observed; "and now, suppose we turn the boat over to let the water out and see just what is the matter with her."

"And there's the sun gone out of sight. Lucky for us this is a warm July night, if we have to camp on Rattail Island," grumbled Lanky.

"Oh! shucks! that's all humbug, and you know it," chuckled his companion, as he bent over to examine the bottom of the upturned water craft.

"Well, if the old boat can't be fixed up, it's either stay here, or swim ashore for us," complained the tall chap, who secretly loved to find cause for growling at times.

"All right, the swimming is fine! But just wait before you tumble overboard and try it. We'll find a way to mend the boat, I guess," said Frank, seriously.

"If anybody can do it I reckon you will. There's mighty little that feazes you—excuse me for saying it to your face, though," chuckled Lanky.

"Now, that's odd!" muttered Frank.

"What, my casually remarking that I always had faith in my chum to pull through any difficulty? I don't see how you make that out," remarked the other, pretending to be provoked, when in truth he was secretly amused.

"Why, no, I was referring to something strange about this hole in the bottom of my boat, that's all," answered the other.

"Hole?" cried Lanky. "Well, according to my notion a hole's only a hole. Perhaps we knocked it in on a snag while rowing up this beastly old river; or perhaps I wore the planking through with my heel, trying to keep pace with your pulling."

"Got a match, Lanky?" asked Frank, ignoring this pleasantry.

"Sure, a dozen of them, if you say so. Always carry a bunch along," and as he spoke, with cheerful alacrity he brought out several.

"That's lucky, for I left my safe in my other coat at the boathouse," and Frank struck one of the matches.

"What about this funny old hole?" demanded Lanky, thrusting his head down.

"Look at it; don't you see something strange about it?" asked his comrade.

"Why, yes, it's as round as a ten-cent piece!" exclaimed Lanky.

"Ever see a snag push through planking like that? The wood's as sound as a dollar all around it, too. Don't it look different from any hole you ever doctored up in a rowboat?"

"It certainly does. I should say the worm that bored that hole——"

"Worm!" echoed Frank, with a laugh; "this worm turned, and was at the end of a brace, and known to carpenters as a quarter-inch bit!"

"Wow! you surprise me, you sure do! If I get your meaning clear you're intimating that some fellow bored that hole through your boat on purpose?" said Lanky, with rising indignation.

"That's just what I believe. I know for a fact that there was no such round opening in that gar-board streak three days ago, for I went over every inch of it with a varnish brush, and examined it closely."

"This is something interesting you're telling me. But why didn't we notice it long ago—why didn't the river slip in early in our trip up over the race course?" and Lanky pushed his nose closer to the gap to examine it better.

"I don't exactly know. But evidently there must have been a plug fixed in the hole, and so arranged that sooner or later the feet of a rower would be apt to dislodge the same. Then the water would run in fast," muttered Frank, looking moodily at the work of a vandal.

It was not so much the wanton destruction of his property that made him angry, as the malicious spirit back of the thing. He could give a good guess, too, as to whom he might thank for the mean trick.

"I see now. It just held in till we were about to land on Rattail Island, and then let go. That plug was in the conspiracy to maroon us here, all right. But it's a measly old game, whoever did it. Where d'ye suppose the plug has gone to, Frank?"

"I was looking; but it isn't in sight. We turned the boat over before it was all the way out of the water, so I reckon the piece of wood floated down-stream. That doesn't matter much, anyhow, for there must have been a plug, you know, Lanky."

"Seems like it. But what are we going to do now," asked the tall boy, usually depending on his friend to suggest remedies in an emergency like this.

"Cut a plug and drive it in. Anything will hold till we get back to the boathouse. It's getting dusk too, so we'd better hurry."

"I tell you what, I'm going to make a little fire so that you can see to work. It is a weakness of mine, you know, Frank. Never get chances enough building fires. Any objection?" queried Lanky, eagerly.

"Not a bit, so go ahead. I may have some trouble finding a piece of wood suitable for a plug, and the light will help out," and Frank began to hunt around on the shore for signs of driftwood, thinking thus to discover a block that might have been cast on the island by the river at its higher stage in the spring.

While both lads are thus engaged it might be well to say a few words in connection with their object in ascending the Harrapin river at this late hour on a July day, and also concerning their aims and ambitions.

Frank Allen was the son of a merchant in Columbia, a thriving town of more than twenty thousand inhabitants, and situated on the bank of this same broad river. Lanky Wallace was one of his particular chums, and had also been a junior in the famous high school during the year just closed.

Among the two hundred and fifty students of Columbia High School were many who loved athletic sports, and during the preceding winter there had existed quite a rivalry between certain of the boys as to which could take the lead both in the gymnasium and on the ice of the frozen Harrapin. Some of these fiercely-fought contests will be found related in the first volume of this series, called, "The Boys of Columbia High; or, The All Around Rivals of the School."

Later on, in the spring, the one subject for every boy in Columbia who loved clean sport, was baseball. There had been a league formed between the teams of Columbia High and those of sister towns along the river, Bellport and Clifford. These rival high school nines fought hard and bitterly for supremacy, and the concluding game had only been recently played.

How that pennant was won, and what part Frank had in bringing it to Columbia High can be discovered by reading the second story, just preceding this, and called "The Boys of Columbia High on the Diamond; or Winning Out by Pluck."

A great regatta had been planned for the glorious Fourth, now but two days distant, in which the boat clubs of the three schools were entered, and a bitterly-contested race loomed up.

Frank, being the coxswain of the Columbia High School crew, had been desirous of going over the course once again, to note any change in conditions since his last trip. All the way up he had paid particular attention to each little current and swirl, knowing that even such minor things were apt to help or mar the work of a crew in a close contest.

Lanky was a member of the crew, and equally interested in learning every yard of the course; which was to be up to Rattail Island and back again to the railroad bridge at Columbia, a distance of four miles, counting the crooks in the river.

The fire was soon blazing brightly, and Lanky seemed to be getting a vast amount of delight over his feat of playing fireman.

"Found the right kind of wood yet, Frank?" he questioned, seeing that the other appeared to be whittling something.

"I think so. Now to see if I can tap it smartly enough with this rock, so as to fill in. The wood I selected is rather soft, for it must swell and fill the hole tight. After all, it's just a temporary job, and meant to hold only long enough to get us safe back home."

As he spoke, Frank began to use the stone he had picked up, giving several taps on the head of the long plug.

"Now, wait till I cut it off close down, and I guess there's no danger of the thing giving out in a hurry," he remarked, satisfied with his work.

"Well, it's pretty near dark, too, with all that rim of a new moon up there in the west. Say, wouldn't it be a rough deal if we had an upset going back? Guess I'll keep my swimming rules in hand, and try not to be surprised if we find ourselves in the drink all of a sudden. The Harrapin isn't the nicest river in the world to navigate in the gloom, you know," observed Lanky, wisely.

"I guess there's as much chance of catching a weasel asleep as to find you unprepared for trouble. Why, I imagine you sit up nights looking for it," Frank remarked, knowing his friend's peculiarities only too well.

Lanky did not deign to notice the slur.

"Who do you suppose did that neat job, Frank?" he asked, suddenly.

"I wouldn't like to say what I think, because you see I haven't a single bit of evidence, and the party might have me prosecuted for libel," suggested the other.

"Libel!" said Lanky, with a snort of disgust; "as if anybody could ever say things too strong to cover the case of Lef Seller, the meanest boy in Columbia, and a fellow who has tried to injure you for a whole year."

"Well, I wouldn't mention his name again until we find some proof that he did it. Take hold now, and we'll get afloat once more, Lanky," remarked Frank, quietly, though his eyes were flashing the indignation that filled his soul in connection with this new evidence of spite work on the part of his inveterate foe.

"Huh! perhaps he didn't actually gouge that hole himself, but ten to one he hired some crony of his to do it, Bill Klemm, Tony Gilpin, or maybe that sly sneak of an Asa Barnes. Oh! I know the breed all right."

Thus grumbling, Lanky picked up one of the oars and climbed into the boat, which was speedily passing down the darkened river.

"Better not try to hurry, Lanky. The current is nearly strong enough to carry us along; and remember, we counted lots of snags around when we came up," cautioned Frank.

"We aren't the only ones on the river, I reckon," announced the other, presently.

"So it seems. I heard that chugging of a motor-boat up-stream as much as a full minute ago; and it's coming pretty fast too, seems to me," ventured Frank.

"Hey! don't you think we'd better pull in nearer the shore? The idiots might run us down out here! Some reckless Clifford chaps heading for Columbia I reckon, to get something decent to eat," ejaculated Lanky, uneasily.

"It's too late now, for they're right on us, and seem to be heading straight this way. Get out a match and give them a flare. Perhaps they don't see this green boat on the water. Quick! Lanky!" said Frank, seizing the oar from his companion's hand, and thrusting it into the rowlock on his left.

Lanky fumbled for a second or two, muttering at his hard luck in getting an obstinate matchsafe open. Meanwhile Frank had partly turned the boat toward the nearest shore, hoping that they might yet get out of the way of the power craft that was coming bustling along so noisily.

"Hey! there, sheer off you fellers!" shouted Lanky, as he finally scratched one of his matches along the leg of his trousers, and held the flame aloft so that it would illumine the faces of the occupants of the rowboat.

The furious popping of the power-boat's exhaust ceased, but there was little abatement to the speed of the craft. Frank was sure he heard a low laugh as of fiendish glee just as the prow of the speed launch crashed against the side of the rowboat. The next instant both he and Lanky found themselves floundering in the water of the Harrapin, as the force of the collision turned their boat turtle!

CHAPTER II

THE ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER ROAD

"Frank! oh, Frank!"

Lanky's voice was more than husky, for he had swallowed considerable water, and was still spouting as he tried to call aloud.

"All right! I'm here, Lanky! Come this way! I've got hold of the boat. It's upside down, but floating still!" answered a voice close beside the swimmer.

"And I've fallen foul of an oar by good luck. Why don't the curs come back and pick us up? I hear the motor chugging again. Say, d'ye suppose they did that on purpose?" demanded Lanky, as he brought up alongside his companion, whom he found clinging to the overturned boat, and gradually pushing it toward the shore.

"I'm dead sure of it, because I heard somebody laugh just before it smashed into us," returned Frank, quickly.

"The hounds! They might have drowned a fellow, that's what!" exclaimed Lanky, indignantly, as he relieved himself of more water which he had almost swallowed.

"Little some cowards think about that, if they can only have their fun. That boat was deliberately steered straight at us. I saw the pilot change its course after you struck that match!" said Frank, with as much anger as his friend had ever known him to display.

"Oh! how I'd like to get hold of the cur at the wheel! What have we ever done to any Clifford fellows that they should play such a dirty joke on us?" groaned Lanky, also striving now to get the boat ashore on the Columbia side of the river.

"What makes you so sure it was a Clifford crowd in that boat?" demanded Frank.

"Just seemed to think that way; but it strikes me that you've got some different sort of a notion. Give us a look-in, won't you, now?" pleaded the other.

"I'll tell you, then. Just as that boat crashed into the side of our craft I had something of a squint at the fellow holding the wheel in the bow. He kept his hat pulled down over his face, and there wasn't any purple and gold ribbon on the same to tell that he belonged to Columbia High; but something about him seemed to be familiar to me."

"Put me wise, Frank; don't badger me so. Was it that Lef Seller?" asked Lanky.

"That was what I thought. I didn't have time for a good look, because you see the match went out; then came the crack of the power boat against us; and the next thing I knew I went under the water," said Frank, deliberately.

"It would be just like him to do such a dirty trick, and to think of the shirks deserting us this way. They might claim it was an accident, and we couldn't ever prove anything else; but how explain why they ran away?"

"Oh! don't you see, they believe we never could find out who it was. There are dozens of small motor-boats on the Harrapin, and perhaps lots of them out every night, with parties of young people aboard. Push hard, Lanky; and we might land on this point here. It will save us a longer swim if we do," said Frank.

Between them the two boys managed to get ashore with the boat. For the second time the damaged craft was hauled out of the water.

"Say, this thing's getting to be a regular habit! I don't like it. Variety's the spice of life with me, and not a monotonous grind;" grumbled Lanky, as he shook himself like a water spaniel.

Frank seemed to be thinking deeply, for presently he remarked:

"It does look like the fates wanted to do me out of a boat to-night. Twice now we've had a chance to get a ducking. The third time might do us up for good. And as we don't know just how badly damaged the boat may be, and I dislike cruising down the river with only one oar, I guess we've got to stump it home, Lanky."

"Oh! I can do that, I guess, though I'm a little lame. Think the old boat kicked me in the leg when she keeled over. I heard somebody laugh just as I went souse into the big tank. That wasn't you, was it, Frank?"

"Well, I guess not. I wasn't feeling in a merry mood just then, I tell you. The chap who laughed held the wheel of the boat that ran us down," returned Frank, grimly.

"Wouldn't I like a chance to make him laugh out of the other side of his mouth, Frank; if we were only sure, I give you my word I'd take it out of Lef Seller's hide, no matter what the consequences," and Lanky shook his fist in the air as if in imagination he could see himself prancing around the object of his detestation.

"Hold on, there, and go slow. It would be foolish to tackle him without more proof than just a mere laugh. They'd have one on you for that. Keep quiet and look around. Perhaps we can find some way of proving who it was damaged my boat. And if we do, he's going to pay for putting her in commission again, as well as for that lost oar; just stick a pin in that, will you?" said Frank, firmly.

"Going to leave the boat here?" asked the other, moodily.

"Yes, after we pull her up a little further. There might be a rain before I find time to come up for her, and the river rising would carry the boat off. We'll be too busy with our racing shells from this time out to bother about getting a wreck like this. There, that ought to do, Lanky, thank you."

"Now what?" demanded the other.

"The road must lie close above here. Let's push through these bushes and get our bearings in the open," and Frank, as he spoke, commenced to lead the way, holding the rescued oar in his hands, which he found valuable in opening a path through the dense thicket.

Presently they arrived on the road. This, for the most part, followed the course of the river for miles. Clifford was only about three and a half miles above Columbia, but on the opposite side of the river. A bridge connected both banks, so that it was easy to drive from one town to the other.

"I think I'd better hide this oar in the bushes here, as I don't want to lug it all the way home. When I come up after the boat I can find it again."

"A good idea, Frank. It's a mile and a half to town from here, and two waterlogged craft like we are can't be expected to make rapid progress. We'll sure be late for grub to-night. But my dad won't scold when he hears the reason. I get in lots of trouble, but I never yarn out of it, and he believes me every time."

"Who wouldn't with that innocent face of yours? Why, if you told about our boat being struck and sunk by a shooting star half the population of old Columbia would be hiking up this way with shovels and dragnets, hoping to capture a valuable prize. It's a great thing to have a reputation for never telling fish stories," laughed Frank, as they started along the dusty road.

"Oh! have your fun, old fellow, if you want. I know it's only done to hide an aching heart, and that you're just as sore over that smash-up on the river as I am. I'm going to make a solemn vow, Frank, d'ye hear?" demanded Lanky, striding along at his companion's side.

"Never to drink again?" asked his friend, humorously.

"Well, Nature abhors a vacuum, and a fellow can't well get on without swallowing a certain amount of water; but what I object to is having gallons of it actually rammed down your throat whether you feel thirsty or not. I don't want another drop for a week," grumbled the other.

"And I don't believe that Harrapin river water is as pure as it might be, with Clifford right above. But what about that terrible vow you're going to take? Have pity on my feelings and tell me."

"Listen then. I declare that I'll never rest easy again until I've solved the dreadful mystery that hangs over us—that I'll devote all my spare minutes, yes, and cash too if necessary, to discovering who held the wheel of that measly little motor-boat when it knocked us silly just now. You're a witness to that, Frank. Just make a note of it, please, will you, and give me a punch if you think I'm shirking my duty at any time?"

Frank pretended to be as much in earnest as his chum.