George’s one idea was to run away, but the remarkable part of the adventure was that it seemed to be impossible to shake off that from which he was trying to escape.
A moment later he arrived at camp and spying his three friends seated around the fire he made his way towards them. As soon as he reached the spot where they were he threw himself upon the ground and commenced to moan and groan violently.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” he cried. “What have I done? What have I done?”
“Why, Pop!” exclaimed Grant in alarm. “What’s the matter with—”
He broke off suddenly in the midst of the sentence and looked at George in horror. All sympathy for the sufferer quickly left him.
“Get out of here!” he cried, but not waiting for George to leave he departed quickly himself. He was accompanied by Fred and John who seemed to be stricken with some strange malady, a mixture of anguish and laughter.
“What shall I do? What shall I do?” cried George as he saw his three friends leaving him.
“Do anything you want,” called Fred. “Drown yourself if you like, but don’t come near me.”
“Where’d you get it, Pop?” shouted John gleefully. “You’d better go soak in the lake for a couple of days.”
“Get away from that fire,” cried Grant. “Our supper is being cooked there and we can’t come back until you leave.”
“I’m not stopping you,” replied George. “Come back and tell me what to do.”
“I told you,” exclaimed Fred. “Go and drown yourself.”
“Where’d you get it, Pop?” repeated John and immediately went off into gales of laughter.
“You caught the trout all right,” laughed Fred. “You caught something else. Something a good deal bigger than that fish too.”
“Isn’t it awful!” exclaimed John holding on to his nose. “I remember my younger brother once ran across a skunk like this and he had to live in the barn for two days.”
“To think that Pop should be the one, too,” said Fred delightedly. “It seems almost too good to be true.”
“It’s true all right enough,” said Grant grimly. “Go up close to him if you don’t believe it.”
“What shall I do?” called George to his three unsympathetic companions. He was standing near the fire, anguish depicted on his face. He was in a sorry plight, for no matter where he went he could not escape the almost overpowering odor that clung to him.
“Take all your clothes off and throw them in the lake,” said Grant. “Then go take a swim yourself.
“After that we might let you come back,” added Fred.
“But I can’t throw away perfectly good clothes,” protested George.
“They’re not ‘good’ any more,” laughed John. “Throw them away.”
“Burn them if you like,” suggested Fred. “Do anything you want with them, only get rid of that smell. You can’t come near us until you do.”
“Is that so?” demanded George and he took a few steps forward. “Who says I can’t come near you?”
“Don’t do it, Pop, don’t do it,” begged Grant. “If you only knew how you smelled.”
“I do know; don’t worry about that. It follows me wherever I go.”
“Please don’t come near us,” exclaimed Grant as George still moved towards them.
“I thought I’d come over and hug Fred,” said George. “He’s so pleased about it all that it seems only fair that I should share the smell with, him.”
“You stay away!” cried Fred in alarm. “Don’t you touch me. Don’t come within forty rods of any of us.”
“Oh, Fred,” grinned George mischievously, “don’t run away from me. I just want to show you how fond of you I am.”
As he spoke George walked slowly towards the group of three boys who stood and watched him anxiously. They knew that George would stop at nothing once he was started and his offer to share the smell of the skunk with Fred gave them ample cause for alarm. Fred was the one most worried and he really had good reason for his alarm, for he knew that George would like nothing better than to rub up against him and inflict the awful odor on him too.
“You keep away from me, Pop!” cried Fred uneasily.
“Don’t you like me?” grinned George.
“Oh, yes, I love you,” exclaimed Fred, knowing well that whatever he might say it would be exactly the wrong thing.
“Then let me hug you,” urged George, advancing steadily nearer.
“I’ll hit you over the head with this rock.”
“Why, Fred, how unkind of you; I really am surprised.”
“You’ll be worse than that if you don’t keep away,” warned Fred, but he backed away a few feet as he saw George steadily approaching.
“Let’s get out of here,” whispered John to Grant and unnoticed by George they withdrew and made their way back to the fire.
“Pop certainly has Fred worried now all right,” laughed John.
“I should say so,” agreed Grant. “The joke was on Pop at first but it certainly is on Fred now. Just look at them.”
George still advanced slowly towards the spot where Fred was standing. He held his arms out, entreating Fred to come to him, but Fred very evidently had no intention of doing any such thing. He was slowly retreating, threatening George meanwhile with all manner of punishment if he was not left alone.
“Come to me, Fred,” begged George, a wide smile on his face. He was content to suffer the discomfort of the terrible odor himself as long as he could worry his friend so effectively.
“Keep away from me, I say!” threatened Fred, brandishing a stick in his right hand. “I swear I’ll hit you over the head with this if you don’t.”
“Oh, Fred, you wouldn’t do that, would you?” exclaimed George, pretending great surprise. “You wouldn’t hit your old friend who only wants to share something nice with you. You can’t be serious.”
“You heard what I said.”
“But Fred—”
“Whew, what a smell!” cried Fred suddenly and he turned and fled as fast as his legs could carry him. Close behind him followed George calling out at every step for Fred to wait and share something nice with him. These invitations however seemed to have no effect upon Fred, for he merely increased his speed.
Now it so happened that the course Fred followed in his flight led behind the tent and down the same narrow trail where George had had his disastrous encounter with Mr. Skunk only a short time before. It also happened that Mr. Skunk had not left the neighborhood with such eagerness as had George; indeed he had been inclined to linger around the same spot where they had met before.
As has been told the path was narrow and hard to follow and the night was growing darker every moment. Unfortunately for Fred a vine stretched across the path just before he came to the spot where George had searched for the “cat.” This vine caught Fred’s toe and he sprawled at full length on the ground; George, but a couple of steps in the rear of him, had to jump over the prostrate body of his friend in order to save himself from meeting the selfsame fate.
When Fred fell he not only surprised but greatly annoyed Mr. Skunk who was lurking only a few feet away. As a result Fred was treated to the same dose that had made George so unpopular around the camp.
Together the two boys returned to camp. They were fellow sufferers now. Though nearly overcome by the powerful stench, they bore with it long enough to walk arm in arm up to the fire and put Grant and John to sudden flight. This provided them much amusement but the smell was too strong to be borne any longer.
“I guess we’ll have to do as Grant advised,” said George.
“What was that?”
“Throw our clothes away and take a swim.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Fred and side by side the two boys made their way down the water’s edge.
Monday morning came and found the four young campers eagerly awaiting the arrival of their challengers. There was great speculation as to what they would look like and whether or not any set of games between the two camps would provide an equal contest.
“I believe we can beat them,” exclaimed George confidently.
“Don’t be so sure,” advised Grant. “You’d better wait until you see your opponents before you begin to make any predictions.”
“That’s right,” said Fred. “You’d better not talk too much about it either, Pop. You’ll need all your wind for the swimming and canoe races.”
George gave the speaker a scornful glance but said nothing. The four friends finished their breakfast and lolled about the camp waiting for their rivals to appear.
“There they come now,” exclaimed John after the lapse of about an hour.
“Where?” demanded George. “I don’t see them.”
“That tree is in your way, I guess,” said John. “You’ll see them in a minute or two.”
“There they are!” exclaimed George suddenly. “Their boat looks just like the Balsam, doesn’t it?”
“I think it is the same,” said John. “It seems to me my father told me that there were two catboats on the lake made by the same man and made exactly alike.”
“That’ll be fine,” said Fred eagerly. “No one can claim any advantage because of the boat then, and the best sailors will win.”
“Let’s hope we’re the ones,” laughed Grant. “Come on, who’s coming down to the wharf to meet our guests?”
“We all are, I guess,” exclaimed John, and a moment later the four boys were standing on the tiny dock waiting for the approaching catboat to come into their little harbor.
“They’re good sailors all right,” whispered Fred as he watched the boys in the boat maneuver their craft. “We’ll have to be awfully good to beat them.”
“All the more credit if we do,” said Grant.
“Ahoy, there!” he shouted a moment later. “You’d better anchor a little way out from the dock here. We’ll come out in the canoes after you.”
“All right,” came the reply. “Did you get our challenge?”
“We certainly did,” said Grant.
“Good. I hope you’ll accept it.”
“Of course we will.”
The boat swung around and one of the crew threw the anchor overboard. The sail was quickly lowered and everything was done in a quiet business-like way that instilled a great amount of respect into the hearts of the boys who, from the dock, were watching the proceedings.
A moment later Grant and John each took a canoe and set out from the shore. They came alongside the catboat, which was named the Spruce, and quickly transferred the crew to the canoes, and thence to the shore. One of the boys, Thomas Adams by name, seemed to be the spokesman for the party and he proceeded with Grant’s help to introduce everybody all around.
Much laughter and embarrassment followed but before long all of the boys were quite at their ease. They left the dock and proceeded to the tent and all sat down on the ground in front of it. It seemed that the camp at the end of the lake was very much like the one on the island. It was occupied by four boys of just about the same age as the others and practically of the same size.
“We thought it would be fun,” said Thomas Adams speaking for his three friends as well as himself, “to challenge you fellows to a set of water sports. We heard that there were to be four of you on this island this summer and we saw you the other day just when you were leaving our camp; right after that storm I mean. We were sorry to miss you.”
“We were sorry, too,” said Grant.
“You were away when we came to see you too,” said Thomas.
“Yes,” said George, “we were off trout fishing for a few days.”
“Have any luck?” asked Hugh McNeale one of the other visitors.
“Pretty good,” said George. “We had a lot of fun too.”
“Who caught the biggest fish?”
“Ask Fred here,” grinned George. “He knows all about that.”
Being urged to do so Fred proceeded to relate the story of how George had carried off the prize. He did not spare himself in the telling either and left out no detail of how disappointed he had been to find that George had beaten him out. When he told how George had hooked his trout the story was greeted with gales of laughter and congratulations were showered upon the fortunate fisherman.
“A fellow with schemes like that would be hard to beat in any sort of a game,” laughed Hugh.
“What sort of games are we going to have?” asked John.
“We thought a sailing race would be fun,” said Hugh.
“Yes, and so would swimming and canoe races,” exclaimed Grant. “Do you think three events will be enough?”
“How about a tilting contest?” said Thomas.
“What’s a tilting contest?” asked Fred curiously.
“Didn’t you ever hear of that?”
“Never that I know of.”
“Why, it’s like this,” explained Thomas. “Two fellows get into a canoe; the one in the stern paddles and steers and the fellow in the bow has a great long pole with one end of it all wrapped up with rags or something like that. Another canoe fixed up the same way opposes them and the two attack each other. The fellows with the poles jab at each other and try to upset the other canoe or knock the bow man overboard; if he falls overboard or the canoe upsets of course they lose the match.”
“That sounds fine,” exclaimed George. “I say we include a tilting match by all means.”
“Two from our camp will take on two from yours,” suggested Thomas.
“All right,” agreed Grant. “We’ll enter our star team.”
“Entries will close one second before the match starts,” laughed Franklin Dunbar, a fat, round-faced boy, who had spoken but little thus far.
“And probably our team will be upset and in the water one second after the match starts,” laughed George.
“It’ll be fun anyway,” said Thomas. “When shall we have the games?”
“We were wondering about that too,” said Grant. “I guess almost any time will suit us though.”
“We’ll need some practice,” remarked Fred. “Don’t forget that.”
“Not much,” said Grant. “I say not to practice too much. We don’t want to make professional games out of them, you know.”
“That’s all right, too,” objected Fred. “At the same time we want to make them worth while and the better we all are the more fun they will be too. Don’t you think so?” and he appealed to the four young visitors for their opinion.
“I agree with you,” said Thomas readily. “Our camp wants to beat yours too, and if you fellows don’t take it seriously why there won’t be much honor in it for us if we do win.”
“There’d be plenty of disgrace if we lost under those conditions though,” laughed Franklin Dunbar.
“We don’t know anything about tilting either, Grant,” said George. “We will need a lot of practice for that event.”
“All right,” agreed Grant. “I guess we do need practice. As far as I’m concerned, anything you fellows say suits me. How about a judge though? Suppose we should have a close finish in one of the races, who would we have to decide it for us?”
“My uncle is coming to spend a week with us in camp,” said Hugh McNeale. “He might act as judge if we wanted him.”
“That would be fine,” exclaimed Grant. “When is he coming?”
“Not till week after next.”
“That’s all right,” said Fred. “That would be just about right.”
“Suppose we set two weeks from Wednesday then,” suggested Thomas. “That ought to give us plenty of time to get in shape.”
“All right,” agreed Grant. “We ought to have some sort of name for our teams too. Have you any name for your camp?”
“No, we haven’t.”
“Neither have we. Suppose you call yourselves the red team and we’ll be the blue.”
“Fine,” exclaimed Hugh. “I’ll write a letter to Uncle Jack and tell him what he has ahead of him. I’ll tell him that he really is to be the umpire and that he’ll get the same treatment an umpire does if he doesn’t do his job well.”
The remaining details were speedily arranged and then the four boys of the red team sailed back to their camp, leaving the boys on the island full of excitement and pleasure at the thought of the games ahead of them.
The days intervening until the time came for the games were busy ones for the boys in the island camp. The Balsam was thoroughly overhauled, and everything removed from her that might tend in any way to retard her speed. Frequent cruises were made and every boy was assigned to some special duty on the boat so that when the race was held there would be no confusion. None of the young campers had any desire to lose the race through inefficiency.
Long swims were indulged in to improve their wind and strengthen their muscles. Canoe races were held and different combinations tried to enable them to select the strongest team. A course a half-mile long was marked out and time-trials held in an effort to decide upon the fastest pair. All four boys were to be in the race but it had been decided that the best policy was to put the best two paddlers in the same canoe. By following this plan it was thought that their chances for winning would be greatly improved. First place was to count two and second one in the sailing and canoe races and in the tilting match. In the swimming race three places were to count, the points to be scored being three for first, two for second and one for third. The team scoring the greatest number of points was to be declared the winner.
Practice for the tilting match occupied very much of the boys’ time. Two long poles had been cut and one end of each was wound with old rags and blankets, thus forming a large soft knob.
“If we’d only saved those clothes that we had on when the skunks got after us,” remarked George, “we could have won a tilting contest from anybody.”
“What do you mean by that!” inquired Grant curiously.
“Simply this. Instead of using rags to wind the poles with we could have used those clothes.”
“What advantage would that have been?”
“Don’t you see?” demanded George. “All we’d have to do would be to point the pole at our opponent. We wouldn’t have to touch him at all; as soon as he got a whiff of that awful odor he’d simply faint and fall overboard and we’d be the winners.”
“A great idea, Pop,” laughed John. “Why didn’t you think of it at the time?”
“In the first place I didn’t know anything about this tilting match at the time; in the second place, even if I had, I don’t believe I’d have kept them. Whew, they were awful!” and George shuddered at the recollection.
“They certainly were,” agreed Fred. “Don’t talk to me about it; my clothes were all in the same condition as yours.”
The same system that was adopted for selecting a team for the canoe race was used for the tilting match. Every possible combination of the four young campers was tried in an effort to find the strongest competitors. Grant and John had been selected for the canoe race, and Grant and George were decided upon for the tilting contest.
It had been taken for granted that Grant would be on both teams; he outshone his companions in every form of game and sport just as he did in his knowledge of books. He and George were heavier than the other two boys and consequently made a more powerful team for the tilting match. Weight would be an asset in that sport, for it is much easier to knock down a light man than it is a heavy one; especially when a tricky and shaky canoe is under your feet.
“I seem to be out of it,” remarked Fred ruefully when the final selections had been made.
“Why are you?” demanded Grant. “You’re going to be in the canoe race just as much as John and I?”
“I know it, but I’m not on the first team.”
“That’s all right, you and Pop might beat us out after all.”
“Huh,” exclaimed Fred. “Pop doesn’t do any work; he just sits there and expects me to do it all.”
“You know that’s not so, Fred,” protested George warmly. “No one in the world works harder than I do.”
“Well, if that’s so,” returned Fred, “all I can say is that there are an awful lot of loafers in the world.”
“All four of us will be in every event except the tilting match,” said John. “You and I are both out of that, Fred.”
“You can save your strength while that’s going on for the swimming race,” said Grant. “We’ll have to depend on you two to win first and second in that.”
“How long is it going to be?” asked George.
“A hundred and seventy-five yards. Tom Adams was over here yesterday while you were away and we decided on that distance.”
“It seems to me like a queer distance though,” said George. “How did you ever happen to hit on that?”
“Why, we wanted to make it a hundred yards and they wanted a two-twenty. We finally compromised on a hundred and seventy-five yards.”
“That’s fair enough,” said George. “How are we going to measure off these different distances?”
“Guess at them, I suppose,” laughed John. “It won’t make any difference whether they’re exact or not, I guess.”
“No, I imagine we’re not going to break any time records so we needn’t bother about such details,” agreed George.
“We haven’t had any practice so far to-day,” remarked Fred. “What’s the matter; are we afraid of getting over-trained?”
“That can be done easily enough, all right,” said Grant. “Don’t you remember what the track coach we had at school last year said?”
“He said I’d never make a runner if that’s what you mean,” laughed George.
“No, not that. What he said about training.”
“What was it?” asked Fred. “I don’t remember.”
“Why, he said it was much better to be under-trained than over-trained. Another thing, when a fellow was training for a certain event he’d never let him run the full distance in practice.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed George. “That doesn’t sound logical to me though.”
“All right,” said Grant, “but you know which school won all the meets held anywhere around home, don’t you?”
“We did,” said George.
“That’s just it,” exclaimed Grant, “and yet you say that trainer was no good.”
“I didn’t mean to say that. All I said was that it didn’t seem reasonable to me not to let a fellow run the full distance.”
“Well, Mr. Smythe used to say that the great temptation for most fellows was to do too much work. They’d go out and run all the afternoon and hang around until they were tired out and then wonder why they felt heavy in the legs and had no life in them.”
“Sailing can’t hurt us anyway,” said John.
“That’s right,” agreed Grant, “and I’m in favor of doing this: stop training for the events to-morrow. That’ll leave us two days to rest up before the games are held and we can devote those two days to learning how little we know about sailing.”
“I know that already,” laughed George. “I’m afraid we’re going to get a good beating in that race.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Fred objected. “They might run on a rock or something.”
“That’s our best chance all right,” said George. “I have an idea that those fellows are all awfully good sailors.”
“I hope we have some wind,” said Grant hopefully. “We’ll never finish the race unless we have a pretty stiff breeze. Personally I think the course is too long.”
“Twice around the lake,” said John. “That’s not so far.”
“It’s pretty far,” insisted Grant. “Wait until you see the buoys out and then you’ll realize it.”
“Who’s going to put them out?”
“The red team,” laughed Grant.
“They’re doing most of the work, aren’t they?” inquired Fred.
“Well, they wanted to; naturally I didn’t object.”
“They’re going to get dinner over here, you know,” said George. “That’ll give us something to do.”
“Just think of it,” exclaimed John. “Won’t we be hungry that day? The swimming and canoe races and the tilting contests all in the morning and then food. You’ll have to cook a lot, Grant.”
“I realize that,” said Grant grimly. “I guess we can feed them though.”
“Suppose we’re all even at the end of the morning,” exclaimed George. “That would certainly make the sailing race exciting, wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would,” Fred agreed. “We’ll have plenty of time to sail it too, Grant. All afternoon ought to be long enough.”
“That’s right,” said Grant. “Yes, I hope we can get around twice in one afternoon.”
“This canoe race is what’s bothering me,” exclaimed George. “That’ll take it out of us all right. It’s hard work paddling and as long as Fred and I aren’t the first team I wonder if it wouldn’t be better if we didn’t go in it at all. If we were fresh for the swimming race that might increase our chances.”
“I know,” said Grant, “but it seems to me that every fellow ought to be in every event.”
“But look here,” George objected. “You and String are a much better pair than Fred and I. You simply walk away from us every time; we can’t possibly beat you so what’s the use?”
“You might get second, and that one point might win for us.”
“I have an idea,” exclaimed John suddenly. “Why not make it a relay race? We can race around the island and if we do that everybody can be in it and it seems to me it would be a lot more fun that way.”
“That’s fine,” exclaimed George warmly. “Fred and I can paddle the first lap and you and Grant the second. Will those other fellows agree to it though?”
“I don’t see why they shouldn’t,” said Grant. “It’s just as fair as the other way; fairer if anything because it gives every one a chance.”
“We’ll have to ask them about it though,” said John. “Why can’t we sail down there now and see them?”
“We can,” said George springing to his feet. “Let’s do it, too.”
A few moments later the Balsam was under way, headed for the end of the lake and the camp of the enemy, the red team.
The day set for the meet came at last. The first event, the tilting contest, was scheduled for eleven o’clock and a half an hour before that time the red team was on hand. The weather was ideal, bright and sunny and warm, with not too much breeze. This was as the boys desired, for they had hoped that the wind might not spring up until afternoon. At least that is the way they would have arranged matters if they had any power to do so. Strange to say it seemed as if the weather was to turn out just as they had hoped.
Hugh McNeale brought his Uncle Jack along and all the boys were captivated by him at once. He was a big, jolly man, full of fun, and with a laugh that made you feel as if you wanted to join in it every time you heard it. He was enthusiastic over the idea of being the judge and promised to do his very best.
“I also have a trophy for the winning team,” he exclaimed. “It’s something that you boys ought to have had in your camps anyway, but I haven’t seen one in either and so I’m going to give it as a prize.”
“What’s that?” inquired Hugh curiously.
“See for yourself,” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell, for that was the name of Hugh’s uncle. He took a package from underneath his coat and unwrapping it, spread before the admiring gaze of the eight boys a silk American flag about three feet in length.
“Say!” said George enthusiastically. “That’s worth working for, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is,” agreed the seven other boys, almost with one voice.
“That’s the first prize,” said Mr. Maxwell, evidently greatly pleased with the result the sight of the flag had produced. “Here’s the second,” and from his pocket he drew another flag of the same quality as the first but only half the size.
“I’m ashamed of you boys,” he continued. “Both of these camps should have had a great big American flag flying right out in front of the tent. Let people see that you’re patriotic and be proud of it.”
“We are proud of it,” objected Grant.
“Of course you are,” said Mr. Maxwell readily. “I want you to show it off though. Have a flag, and every time you look at it don’t think only of how beautiful it is. Remember what it stands for and how much you owe to it. Think of the country that stands back of that flag and of the millions of others who along with you have it for their national emblem. You’re all glad you’re Americans and you’re proud of the fact and I want you never to be afraid to admit it. Be loyal to the flag, boys, and by your actions prove that you’re worthy of the protection it affords you. And don’t forget either that it’s your duty as real American citizens to do your part. That’s what so many forget so easily. You can’t expect to receive benefits all the time and not give anything in return, you know.”
“What can we do?” asked George, who along with all the others was deeply impressed by Mr. Maxwell’s words.
“Just this: be good citizens. A good citizen is a man who not only obeys the laws of his country, but who is always working to make his country better. He puts his country’s interests ahead of his own and that’s a hard thing to do sometimes. A good citizen stands by the mayor of his town, and the governor of his state, and the president of his country. Instead of sitting home and criticising them he gets out and works to help them in every way he can and he is loyal to them. Those men are behind this flag and if you are loyal to the flag, prove it by being loyal to the men behind it. Every man must do his part.”
“I guess we’re careless at times and don’t think,” said Grant soberly.
“That’s true,” agreed Mr. Maxwell. “That’s no excuse for us though.”
“But I didn’t come here to make a speech,” he continued laughingly. “I believe what I’ve just said with all my heart though. At present, however, I know there is a tilting contest to be held and we’d better start it at once. I’m anxious to see who gets the first two points towards winning the big flag.”
Without further delay the four boys who were to compete in this event set about preparing themselves for it. Bathing suits were donned so that an upset would not cause any worry and the two canoes were soon ready for the fray.
Grant and George represented the blue team and Thomas Adams and Franklin Dunbar, the red. Grant was bow man, with George to handle the canoe; Thomas was bow man, and Franklin paddled in the opposing boat.
The contest was staged in the little harbor and the judge and spectators took their positions on the tiny wharf. The canoes now faced each other some fifty feet apart, waiting for the signal.
“Not too fast now, Pop,” warned Grant. “I don’t want to fall out of the canoe before we even reach the other one, you know.”
“I know,” replied George. “I’ll be careful.”
“I’m going to stay down on one knee like this, too.”
“That’s a good scheme. Lock your feet around that thwart if you can. We want to beat those fellows.”
“All ready?” came the call from shore.
“All ready,” answered Grant, and Thomas did the same.
“Go,” shouted Mr. Maxwell, and the match was on.
Franklin and George did not try to make speed however. In fact they were both very cautious and as a consequence, the two canoes approached each other slowly. Both pilots seemed willing to let the other man lead off in the attack.
“Careful, Pop,” said Grant, without relaxing his gaze from his opponent’s face for one instant.
“All right. I’m watching them.”
Grant, crouched on one knee, was holding the pole as a mediæval knight would have held his lance in a jousting tournament. Thomas however, stood up in his canoe, gaining a little freedom of action perhaps, but at the same time increasing his chances of going overboard.
The canoes were only a few feet apart now and the bow men braced themselves for the onslaught.
“Let ’em have it now, Grant!” shouted John from the shore. Fred joined him in his exhortations, while Hugh and Herbert Halsey were just as noisy in their zeal to cheer their team on, and for the size of the audience the amount of sound produced was marvelous. Mr. Maxwell was the only one who was silent.
Closer came the two canoes. Now they were within range and Thomas lunged forward savagely at Grant. He ducked the blow and aiming one in return caught his opponent full in the stomach. Thomas uttered a loud grunt and fell backwards. As luck would have it however, he fell in the canoe. The light craft rocked dangerously and narrowly missed upsetting. As it was, some water was shipped and had it not been for the skill of the two occupants it surely would have overturned.
“Quick, Grant!” urged George. “Hit him again before he can get up.”
“Bring me closer to them.”
George thrust his paddle into the water and the canoe shot forward. Franklin, however, with ready presence of mind had swung his canoe around the minute it righted itself and Grant’s lunge at Thomas missed. Before George could bring his boat within range again, their opponents had recovered their balance and were prepared for the second attack.
Once more the canoes approached each other. This time Thomas followed Grant’s example and crouched on one knee. He had evidently learned a lesson and had determined to be more wary.
“Get him, Grant! Get him!” shouted John.
“Careful, George; not too fast,” warned Grant.
He held his pole back waiting an opportunity to strike. This time he was determined that any blow he delivered would end the match; he had been out-lucked before and did not want it to happen again.
Thomas made a feint at him. Grant was anxious and struck back so eagerly that he almost fell out of the canoe.
“That’s the way, Tom,” called Hugh. “You’ll fix him this time.”
Again Thomas feinted and again Grant lunged fiercely at his opponent. Thomas then followed up his bluff with a quick stab that luckily only struck Grant a glancing blow on the shoulder. Had it hit him squarely, the match most certainly would have been ended then and there; as it was only George’s quick action saved them from going over.
“Don’t let him fool you, Grant,” he warned. “Wait for him.”
Again they advanced and as they once more neared each other Thomas repeated his former tactics. He made a feint to lunge at Grant, and as before, Grant was unable to resist the temptation to strike back quickly. This he did and Franklin in the stern of the opposing canoe, anticipating this move, backed water and the blow missed Thomas’ head by inches.
The poles the boys were using were long and heavy. As a result, they were somewhat clumsy and hard to handle. As Grant lunged forward at Thomas, he leaned over the side of the canoe and the weight of his pole prevented him from regaining his balance at once.
Thomas and Franklin had evidently mapped out their plan of campaign beforehand and apparently Grant had acted exactly as they wished him to. Thomas held his pole with a shortened grip and before Grant could recover his equilibrium, he jabbed at him with all his might. The great wad on the end of the pole caught Grant squarely on the chest; he dropped his pole and waved his arms violently about his head in an effort to save himself.
All his efforts were of no use, however. Undoubtedly he would have gone overboard anyway, but just to make sure, Thomas gave him a gentle push with the business end of the pole and over he went. As he disappeared over the side he gave the canoe a shove with his feet and a moment later George joined him in the water.
A moment later Grant and George came to the surface puffing and shaking the water from their eyes and hair. Both boys were laughing.
“Nice work,” said Grant to their two opponents, who sat in their canoe nearby.
“We were lucky,” protested Thomas.
“Lucky, nothing,” exclaimed Grant. “You knew more about the game than we did and you deserved to win.”
The canoe belonging to the defeated boys floated close at hand, bottom side up. The pole and the paddle were a short distance away. These were soon rescued and the canoe being righted, the contestants made their way to shore. John and Fred were the first to congratulate the winners.
“We’ll have to win this canoe race,” exclaimed Fred. “You fellows have two points to our one as it is now, and we can’t afford to let you get twice as many again this time.”
“We’re going to do our best to get twice as many though, you may be sure of that,” laughed Hugh McNeale. “We want that big flag.”
“If you win it, you’ll certainly be welcome to it,” exclaimed John. “We want it ourselves though, I can tell you.”
The best of feeling existed between the two camps, but this fact did not serve to lessen the competition and rivalry. Good sportsmanship adds zest to every game.
“Where are the first pairs for this canoe race?” cried Mr. Maxwell. “We mustn’t let these events lag, you know.”
“We’ll be ready in a minute,” replied Grant. “We want to get all our wind back and remove all the water from this canoe first.”
“That’s right,” said Herbert Halsey. “You fellows take your time.”
The suggestion of the blue team that the next event be made a relay race around the island, had met with an enthusiastic response from their rivals. Two teams from each camp were to compete and each team was to paddle once around. The first pairs consisted of George and Fred, from the blue team and opposed to them were Herbert Halsey and Franklin Dunbar, from the red. Finishing the race were Grant and John, against Hugh McNeale and Thomas Adams. Each camp had selected its strong team to paddle last, hoping to win the race by a powerful finish.
“I guess we’re all ready now,” said Grant, when a few moments had elapsed. “We’ll go ahead any time you say.”
“All right,” said Mr. Maxwell. “Now remember the rules; the starting line is directly opposite this dock and I’ve got some string which we will use for tape at the finish. Each team is to paddle once around the island. When the second relay starts, the two canoes that have finished will be stationed out here about twenty feet apart and this string will be stretched between them; that will be the finish line. All four canoes will be used of course and the second relay must not start until those completing the first have touched the canoes with their paddles. Is it all clear?”
“All clear,” said Grant, and Thomas answered for his side.
“Very well,” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell. “The first canoes may take their places and the second relay had better be ready too.”
George and Fred pushed out from the dock and paddled slowly to the starting point; Herbert and Franklin followed close behind.
When they were in position, and by the way the red team had drawn the course nearest shore, Mr. Maxwell lifted his small megaphone and gave his final instructions.
“Remember,” he called, “once around, and the inside team this lap will be the outside next. Don’t get mixed up.”
“That’ll be a little help to us,” said John in a low voice to Grant. “I hope Fred and Pop can give us a little lead to start out with.”
“I hope so too,” replied Grant.
“On your marks!” shouted Mr. Maxwell.
Four boys sat up alert and eager for the final word.
“Get set!”
Four paddles were raised and held poised for instant action.
“Go!”
The blades were dipped deeply into the water and the race was on. Side by side the two canoes sped along.
“You fellows better go out there and take your places,” said Mr. Maxwell, turning to the four boys who were to continue the race the next relay. “We don’t want any mixup then, you know. It would be a shame to have those boys paddle over half a mile for nothing.”
In response to his suggestion, Grant and John, and Hugh and Thomas, paddled slowly out to the starting line, there to await the arrival of their respective team-mates.
“Take it slow, Fred,” urged George from his position in the stern of the racing canoe. “Don’t kill yourself right at the start.”
They had covered about one hundred yards of their course and all four boys were paddling with every ounce of strength they possessed.
“Dip your paddle deep,” he continued. “Take a long easy stroke. A good steady pace is what we want.”
“They’ll get way ahead of us,” protested Fred.
“What if they do? They’ll be all in at the finish and we’ll start a sprint.”
In response to George’s suggestion they eased up materially. As Fred had predicted the other canoe immediately began to draw away, for its two occupants did not relax their efforts for an instant. Wider and wider the gap opened between them until thirty feet separated the two racers when they came to the first turn.
The island was oval in its shape, very much like an egg. The start had been made from a point about midway between the two ends. The first stretch, therefore, was half the length of the island, then the corner was turned and the whole length of the island was covered, ending with the home stretch, half the length of the island again.
Steadily and strongly, George and Fred paddled. Herbert and Franklin still worked desperately, taking nearly three strokes to the other boys’ two, and as a result, the gap between the two boats continually widened.
“Don’t let it worry you, Fred,” said George. “They can’t keep up that pace very much longer.”
“They’re not weakening yet though, Pop.”
“I know it, but we’ve only covered half the course so far.”
Steadily the red team’s canoe drew away. Forty, fifty feet, they were in the lead now. If any one had been in a position to observe, however, he would have seen that its occupants were beginning to show signs of weakening. Their breath came faster and faster, the perspiration rolled off their faces in streams, and their muscles began to ache and throb.
Relentlessly George and Fred followed them. Not one bit did they increase their efforts, though George had great difficulty in restraining his companion. Powerful, even strokes urged their tiny craft on and now they were holding their own. Just ahead of them was the last turn which was to bring them into the home stretch.
“How do you feel, Fred?” asked George.
“Fine.”
“Are you tired?”
“Not very.”
“I hope not. We’ll start a sprint the second we round that turn and we’ll have to put all we’ve got into it.”
The leading canoe was even now turning the point. The boys in it were plainly tired as their frequent splashing showed. They still worked desperately, however, and it would be no mean task to overtake them.
Grant and John sat in their canoe at the starting point eagerly awaiting the appearance of their team-mates. To their dismay, it was Franklin and Herbert who first hove in sight and to the waiting boys it seemed as if hours elapsed before George and Fred rounded the turn. At last they appeared, however, over thirty yards in the rear.
“Now, Fred!” urged George, as they started on the home stretch. “Let ’em have it.”
Like demons the two boys began to ply their paddles. The light canoe was quick to respond and it fairly flew over the water. Foot by foot and yard by yard they gained on their fast-tiring opponents.
Franklin and Herbert paddled desperately. Their strength was gone however; they had used it all up at the start of the race. Their arms felt like great chunks of lead and it was all the two boys could do to make them respond to the urging of their wills.
At racehorse speed, George and Fred plowed along. The gap between the two canoes began to disappear as if by magic. The steady pace they had maintained had tired them, to be sure, but they still had plenty of reserve strength left and they were using it now when it counted most. The cheers of their team-mates waiting for them came faintly to their ears, spurring them on.
“We’ve got ’em, Fred! We’ve got ’em!” exclaimed George triumphantly. “Stick to it.”
Fifty yards away was the finish line and the canoes were almost on even terms. Forty yards and George and Fred were in the lead. Their rivals were beaten, dead tired, and possessed of scarcely the strength necessary to urge their canoe across the line.
Thirty yards from home and George and Fred enjoyed a lead of nearly five yards. They were moving at easily twice the speed of their opponents now. It seemed certain that Grant and John were to be handed a splendid head-start for the last relay, when an unexpected and most disheartening thing suddenly happened.