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The High School Boys' Canoe Club, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 17. The Good Word By Wire |
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_ CHAPTER XVII. THE GOOD WORD BY WIRE "We'll race within a few days," Dick declared serenely. "We've got to race soon, for our funds won't hold out long and we can't stay here all summer." "The Athletic Council will thank us for losing the race," murmured Greg Holmes, ironically. "We won't lose," Dick maintained, "unless you fellows throw the race against Gridley." "Throw the race?" echoed Tom Reade indignantly. "Dick Prescott, do you think we'd do a thing like that?" "I'm sure you wouldn't," their big chief admitted coolly. "Do you mean to say that we didn't do our best this morning?" questioned Danny Grin. "Our very best?" added Hazelton. "We all did the best that was in us---this morning," Dick went on. "But we'll be a lot better prepared when we get into a real race." "I don't believe I can paddle any harder than I did at the finish this morning," Reade argued. "In fact, I know I can't. My back aches yet with the work that I did." "I don't doubt it," Dick smiled. "I know that my back aches." "Then how are we going to win in any other race against Preston High School?" Darrin asked curiously. "Did you fellows study the paddling work of the Prestons this morning?" Prescott asked. "I saw their paddles ahead of us all the time," Greg murmured. "That was a good place to have their paddles, for study," Dick laughed. "Couldn't you see, from their paddling, why they beat us with ease?" "No! Could you?" challenged Tom. "Yes. The Preston fellows dip their paddles better than we do. They dip so that the blade always cuts the breeze, instead of meeting it. When they recover they turn their paddles so as to slip them out of the water without throwing any back strain on the canoe's progress. I was studying their paddling work all the time, and I hoped that you fellows were doing the same." "The Prestons have a lighter, swifter canoe, anyway," contended Dave. "I think they have some advantage over us, that way," Dick nodded. "At the same time I am certain that we ought to beat Preston by beating their style of paddling." "Beating their style of paddling?" echoed Reade. "Why, according to what you've told us we can't even equal their paddling." "We're going to equal it," Dick answered, "and we ought to beat it. At two o'clock, fellows, we're going out for two hours of drill. Then I'll try to explain what I think I saw of the Preston superiority in dipping and recovery. If I really observed correctly, then we ought to be able to do much better, for I also think I see how to improve on the Preston High School paddle work enough to make their performance look almost clumsy." "If you can do that," proclaimed Hazelton ungrudgingly, "then you're a wonder, Dick." "We shall see," smiled the big chief. "And if we don't see straight," mumbled Reade, "then Preston will hand us such a wallop that we won't even have the nerve to take up a challenge from Trentville High School." For the rest of the morning Dick & Co. were much more thoughtful than usual. They had met defeat---a thing they didn't relish. Yet they knew, in advance, how much worse they would feel if they met a defeat when officially entered as a Gridley High School crew---for the honor of their school was dear to them all. The noonday meal was over before one o'clock. Dick would not allow the "Scalp-hunter" to be put in the water a minute before two. He wanted to be sure that digestion had proceeded far enough so that they might do their best. At the time appointed, however, he took the crew out on the water, and there carefully explained what he thought he had learned of the better paddling style of the Preston High School boys. "You certainly did see a whole lot that I didn't see," Reade admitted, "and I believe that you saw it straight, too, Dick." "We can certainly shoot the old canoe ahead faster, already," Dave murmured delightedly. "Now, Dick, what are the improvements you thought you might have on the Preston style?" Danny Grin asked eagerly. "To-morrow will be time enough to try out improvements, or any kind of frills," Prescott answered patiently. "For this afternoon let us confine ourselves to paddling as well as the Preston High School fellows do it. To-morrow we'll see if we can't do better than they do." After a little more practice it was surprising how much more easily they took to the new style of paddling. "Rest on your paddles for a few minutes," Dick ordered. "Get in some deep breaths. Then I'm going to pump up your speed to the best that you can do with the new stroke. We'll try to go to the hotel landing flying." When all was ready Prescott gave the word. "Now, your best speed, and all the strength you can properly put into the work. Go! One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!" Across the lake sped the canoe, Dick & Co. fully aware that they were now traveling at a speed that had been impossible to them that same morning. "Stop paddling! Back water! Stop backing!" With deft movements of his own paddle, Dick swung the canoe in gently against the float. Out of the boathouse near by came Bob Hartwell. "I've been watching you fellows," he called. "That's fair enough," Dick answered. "You're doing some better than you did this morning," Hartwell went on. "You've almost got our stroke." "Almost?" repeated young Prescott, raising his eyebrows. "Haven't we improved a good deal on your Preston High School action?" Bob Hartwell began to laugh. "You fellows from Gridley are always world beaters, aren't you?" he demanded good-humoredly. "At first, I thought it was all brag on your part, and that you fellows were suffering from enlarged craniums complicated with bragitis. But now I begin to see that you talk confidently just in order to convince yourselves that you can't be beaten at anything. And I don't know that it's such bad 'dope,' either, as the sporting writers put it." "Let's hear you try some," urged Dick. "Brag?" asked Hartwell. "No; I don't believe I have mastered the idea well enough to do any really sincere bragging as yet. However, if you ever beat us at anything except brag, then I'm going to try to copy your form in the boasting line." By this time Dick & Co. were dragging their canoe up onto the float. "I hope Rip isn't sneaking anywhere about these grounds," muttered Danny Grin. "Who's Rip?" Bob Hartwell asked curiously. Then: "Oh, I beg your pardon for being too inquisitive," as he saw Dick frown at Dalzell. "I'm going to remain on the float, while you fellows go up into the hotel grounds," said Tom. "All of you go, and I'll stay and watch your canoe," suggested Bob Hartwell. "That is, if you're willing to trust me as sentry." "Of course we're willing," Dick responded. "But it's only right that one of our own crowd should do such work. Are you coming up with us, Hartwell?" "Why, yes," Bob answered, "if I can't be of any service to you here." Slowly the boys sauntered up through the walks. Then out on the porch came Manager Wright, waving a yellow envelope. "That's probably the answer from the Athletic Council of Gridley High School," Dick explained, turning to Hartwell. "You don't mind if I run on ahead and leave you, do you?" "You may run on ahead and leave me if you're as handy at running as you are at bragging," chuckled Bob. All of the boys in the group were soon at the porch. Mr. Wright descended the steps to hand Dick the envelope. Dick tore open the envelope hurriedly. "It's all right!" he called gleefully. "Mr. Howgate sends this word:" _"'Athletic Council approves and sanctions your representing Gridley High School on the water with your Canoe Club. Wish you success! Be careful not to risk lowering Gridley's standard in sports through recklessness.'"_ "When do Gridley and Preston race in a regular event?" demanded Bob Hartwell promptly. "Mr. Wright has been most kind to us about several matters," Dick answered. "I'd like to ask him what date will be most satisfactory." _ |
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