“It’s great, I’ll say!” declared Randy Rover.
“I should say it was!” returned his twin brother, Andy. “Just think of swooping through the air like a bird! Gee, I’d like to own a flying machine myself!”
“Well, our fathers owned one once,” declared Captain Fred Rover, somewhat proudly. “They flew clear to Brill College in their machine.”
“Yes, I’ve often heard them talk about that,” put in Major Jack Rover. “They called the machine the Dartaway. It was a biplane and of rather primitive construction, because in those days aeroplanes were a new invention and the best of them were rather crude.”
“I wonder what ever became of that machine?” questioned Andy.
“Oh, it went into the scrap heap long ago,” declared his cousin Fred.
“They didn’t have much use for it after they left college and went into business in Wall Street,” explained Jack. “But they certainly had some dandy times in it.”
The four boys were out on Clearwater Lake in one of the rowboats belonging to Colby Hall. They had been watching the maneuvers of a large biplane which had circled over their heads several times. This biplane had made its headquarters at a cove just below Haven Point, and its owners had advertised far and wide to take people up for a fly around the lake for fifteen dollars per person. As this was the first aeroplane to come to the lake for business, it had taken up quite a few people during the past ten days.
“I wonder how long they stay up on a trip,” remarked Andy, as the four boys resumed their rowing.
“The circulars say fifteen minutes,” answered Fred.
“It didn’t seem to me he stayed up more than ten minutes the time before this,” said Jack. “I suppose they cut the time when they have other people waiting to go up. They carry only two passengers at a time, you know, and I suppose they want to make hay while the sun shines.”
“A dollar a minute is making money pretty fast,” observed Randy. “I’d like to rake in an iron man every sixty seconds by the watch,” and he grinned.
“Yes, but it costs something to run a flying machine,” returned Jack. “And then there is the risk, too.”
“Well, if we went up it would cost the four of us sixty dollars,” declared Randy.
“And I don’t see ourselves spending sixty dollars that way just now,” cried Jack. “My spending money for this quarter is getting low.”
“Don’t say a word, Jack, about spending money!” came from his cousin Fred, with a wry face. “I’m almost high and dry.”
“It’s lucky they can’t charge us for looking at the aeroplane,” chuckled Andy.
The four Rover boys had left Colby Hall about an hour before for a row down the Rick Rack River to the lake. In a boat behind them were four of their chums, Dick Powell, often called Spouter because of his fondness for making long speeches, Gif Garrison, who was at the head of the school athletics, and Ned Lowe and Dan Soppinger. Each crowd of cadets was in a well-built four-oared boat, and a little while before had indulged in a race which had come to an end when all had stopped rowing to look at the aeroplane which was soaring above their heads.
Boating that year promised to become popular at Colby Hall. Colonel Colby had had the institution fitted out with several new racing shells, and in addition had purchased two motor-boats of which all the cadets were very proud. A man had been hired who knew all about motor-boats, and he was instructing the various cadets in the use of the craft.
“I must say I wish we were out in one of the new motor-boats,” declared Fred, after they had gone on rowing for ten minutes more. “This is rather hot and tiresome work.”
“Never mind, Fred. You need the exercise,” declared Jack. “You’re getting too stout. The first thing you know you’ll be as fat as Fatty Hendry.”
“Gosh! don’t say that, Jack,” returned the young captain quickly. “Why, Fatty is so fat he can hardly get through the dormitory doors!”
“That aviator won’t want to take up Fatty,” remarked Andy. “That is, not unless he went up alone and paid double fare.”
“Hi, you fellows, get a move on!” came a shout from the other rowboat, and Gif Garrison waved a hand towards the Rovers. “I thought you were going to do a little rowing practice. Remember, we have got to get busy if we want to win any of those boat races later on.”
“Fred and I are not in those races, Gif,” answered Jack. “You know officers are not expected to enter any contests like that.”
“Yes, but I expect Andy and Randy to go into at least one race,” declared the cadet who was at the head of the athletic committee. “And when they go in I want them to make a real showing for Colby.”
“We’ll do that all right enough,” declared Randy.
“I’m going in for practice every day after this,” answered his brother.
“Just remember we’ve got to wipe Longley Academy from the face of the lake,” declared Spouter Powell. “We’ll show them that as a military academy they are not one, two, three with good old Colby Hall.”
“That’s the talk!” cried Jack. “There’s going to be only one real military academy around here, and that’s Colby.”
“So say we all of us!” sang out his cousin Andy.
“What did they want to turn Longley Academy into a military school for, anyway?” grumbled Ned Lowe. “I thought when they started that school they were going to give their attention mainly to athletics.”
“So they did,” answered Gif Garrison. “But when they saw how popular Colby Hall was becoming, and how they were losing one scholar after another, I guess the owners got busy and concluded the only thing they could do would be to turn the academy into a military school and give their boys the showiest kind of a uniform.”
“And they sure have got the uniforms!” declared Fred, who overheard this remark from the other boat. “Gosh! you would think they were cadets from one of those little jerkwater monarchies in Europe. Such gold braid and buttons and such lace! It’s enough to make an ordinary American boy sick!”
“You’d better not tell them that,” said Jack quickly. “If you do they’ll say you’re jealous of them because our uniforms are so ordinary.”
“Well, you give me the good old gray and khaki every time,” came from Randy. “Both of those colors stand the wear a good deal better than that showy stuff will ever do.”
“Come on, fellows; jack her up!” called out Gif. “I’ll bet you a pint of peanuts we can beat you to the landing at Berry Island.”
“Make it a quart and we’ll go you!” shouted back Jack gayly.
“And they’ve got to be freshly roasted, too,” broke in Andy. “No stale old goobers from Rigoletto’s place where they’ve been lying in his show window for a month or two! They’ve got to be freshly roasted, right out of the whistling roaster!”
“Get ready—pull!” cried Gif, a few seconds later, and at this word of command from the head of the general athletic committee the four Rovers started up the lake with the other boat close by their side.
It was a beautiful day in early summer, and the surface of Clearwater Lake sparkled in the sunshine. There was scarcely any wind and consequently conditions were ideal for rowing.
Ever since they had come to the military academy the four Rover boys had spent more or less time on the river and the lake beyond, so they were no novices when it came to handling an oar. Jack set the pace, and his three cousins kept stroke with him in a fashion that could not help but win approval.
“Come on, fellows! We’ve got to beat ’em!” cried Gif Garrison to his rowing mates. “Pull now, and make every stroke tell!”
“We are not as well matched up as they are,” panted Ned Lowe, who was by far the poorest rower of the bunch. “Those Rovers have been rowing together ever since they came to the Hall.”
“Don’t growl, Ned! Row!” returned the leader, and then the cadets in the second boat did their best to outstrip their rivals.
It was certainly a spirited race and well worth watching. But no other craft was in sight, the two rowboats apparently having that portion of the lake entirely to themselves. The aeroplane which had attracted the rowers’ attention had glided away in the distance and they could no longer hear the roar of the motor.
Berry Island was little more than a quarter of a mile away. It was for the most part very rocky, but at one end there was a somewhat sandy beach where the boys occasionally went in bathing.
“Say, it wouldn’t be a bad stunt to go in swimming after this race,” puffed Randy, as he bent over his oar.
“No use to go in when you’re all tired out and in a sweat,” declared Fred, who on account of his stoutness found it rather difficult to keep up with the others.
The Rovers had forged ahead, and it looked very much as if they would win the race when suddenly Randy began to drag. Then he lost his stroke and that threw his brother out of stroke, too, and this caused the rowboat to swerve from its course and the craft under Gif Garrison’s directions shot ahead.
“Hi! what’s the matter with you?” cried Jack, in some vexation.
“My oar caught on a rope or some bit of seaweed,” declared Randy. “It’s gone now,” and he and his brother proceeded to right themselves. Then they caught the stroke and went forward as before.
This little mishap occupied only a few seconds of time, but during that period the other boat went ahead a good hundred feet. Gif and his followers were rowing with all their might, bound to put all the distance possible between themselves and their competitors.
“Swing into it! Swing!” cried Jack. “We’ve got to catch up! Now then—all together and make her jump out of the water!”
Jack had always been the leader of the four cousins, and they obeyed his instructions as best they could. They put in every ounce of their strength on the oars, and slowly but surely their craft began to overtake the other rowboat.
“Pull, you duffers, pull!” cried Gif, as he saw the Rovers crawling up. “We’re almost to the island! Pull, or they’ll overtake us!”
He increased the stroke and Spouter and Dan followed. But this speed was too great for poor Ned Lowe, and all of a sudden Ned’s oar came up with a tremendous splash that showered everybody in the boat with water. Then Ned lost his balance and he and Spouter came close to falling overboard. The craft slued around directly in the path of the second rowboat.
“Stop rowing! Back water!” cried Jack, as the sudden shouts ahead warned him that something was wrong. He gave a quick glance around, as did his oar mates, and then he and Fred threw their craft out of the course. An instant later the oars of the boats scraped each other. But then the craft separated.
“Some narrow escape, I’ll say,” declared Randy, when the momentary danger was over.
“What’s the matter with you fellows, anyway?” called out Fred.
“Ned lost his stroke, that’s all,” answered Gif.
“Lost his stroke and gave us a shower bath at the same time,” put in Dan.
“Well, I guess the race is off,” declared Jack, good-naturedly. “Anyway, I think it’s about time that we got back to the Hall. I want to see Captain Dale before we have the evening parade.”
“Let’s rest at the island just a few minutes,” pleaded Randy. “I want to get my wind back before—— Gee, boys, look at that, will you?”
He broke off suddenly and in his excitement stood up in the rowboat pointing skyward as he did so. All looked in the direction pointed out and saw that the aeroplane was again heading in their direction. But now instead of sailing along on an even keel the flying craft was zigzagging in a most unusual fashion.
“Say! there’s something wrong with that flying machine, that’s sure,” declared Fred in excitement.
“Maybe the aviator is trying a few stunts,” suggested Andy. “They do that once in a while, you know.”
“But not when they have passengers who are green at flying!” burst out Jack. “I believe something is wrong with that machine.”
“Look! Look! Did you ever see anything like that?” came from the other boat. “That aviator acts as if he were crazy! Or otherwise his machine has got the jimjams.”
By this time the aeroplane was almost over their heads. The roar of the motor was deafening. The great machine darted from one side to the other, and then took a dip and a whirl which made it look as if both rowboats and their occupants might be doomed.