CHAPTER IX
AN EXCITING FINISH
When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blownfour times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, therewas a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White.Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisonsfully a mile.
Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, whohad learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a resultfairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was acontest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Theirfirst pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them backin the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit forcarrying it out.
But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to astrong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles ofrough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George andArthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained andhardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothersstrove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. Thatquick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the waterwith perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a waythat could not be equalled by less trained rivals.
Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they,too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glanceback over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with asharper thrust, and the canoe would respond to the fresh endeavour.
"They'll gain some," said Henry Burns once, calmly. "We can't help that.They've had too many years of it, not to be able to set a stronger pace.But they can't catch us in one afternoon. If they do, we're beaten.We'll hold some of our advantage, eh, Jack?"
"You bet we will!" exclaimed Harvey, jabbing the water savagely. "I'mgoing to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt."
So saying, he called to his companion to "give it to 'em lively," andthey set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceedthe speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as thatwould not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into theirnormal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more.
The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill andendurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell offslower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, theirmuscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond tothe call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bobwere gaining on both.
On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessaryaccording to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing theywere gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionablerapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob andthe Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty.
Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certainTom and Bob must have overtaken and passed their rivals. But now thetime for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presentlyHarvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Fourblasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answeringblasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoesheaded for shore. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in thelead.
But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoethere was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey andHenry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more.Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craftand the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddledgamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind theleaders.
Leaving their canoes drawn up on shore, at precisely the spot where eachhad been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shookhands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy.
"But look out for to-morrow," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking afist at Jim Ellison.
They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of threebamboo poles, standards and cross-piece, and a thin, unbleached cotton"A" tent, and quickly pitched the four tents on a level piece of ground,in a semi-circle. The tents were flimsy affairs, light to carry, andwould not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it wasclear and no danger of a wetting.
Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoefurnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail forboiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon forfrying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the openspace in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and thecoffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced inthe ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowingcoals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, justout of reach of burning.
The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire,hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all wasready, and they had removed the feast away from the warmth of the fire,piling on more wood and making it blaze up brightly for its cheer.
Then they fell to with amazing appetites; and the amount of crisp baconand hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled theproprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he hadhad to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-bypastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, theywere ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of thefirst stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, eachrolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf.
"Well?" remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up andlooking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harveygave a yawn, stretched and roused up. "I feel fine," he answered. "Lameany?" "Not a bit," replied Henry Burns.
Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bobalready up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed.
"Have a plunge?" asked Bob.
"Yes," said Henry Burns. "Come on, Jack?"
The four went down to the shore, leaving the others still finishingtheir morning naps. One quick plunge and they were out again, ready forbreakfast. It was plain they were ready for the day's race. So said Jimand John Ellison, when they were out, some minutes later. But HenryBurns gave a sly wink at Harvey, as his sharp eye observed the motionsof the brothers when they came to strike their tent. Nor did he fail tonote the quickness with which Jim Ellison dropped his right arm, when hehad raised it once over his head.
"Just a bit lame," said Henry Burns, softly. "We'll give it to 'em hardat the start, before they get limbered up."
Breakfast eaten, and the camp equipments stowed, they all proceeded nowto the spot where the Ellisons' canoe was drawn ashore. There they setup a pole cut for the purpose. It marked the turning point of the race.At the signal, the Ellisons could start down stream from there; and eachcanoe must go up stream to that point before it could begin its homerun.
It was a race now, as Henry Burns expressed it, for glory and fordinner. They had eaten their stock of food and would stop for nothingmore till they reached camp. They had covered some fifteen miles ofwater, up stream against rapids and the current, in the preceding day'spaddling; but they could make it down stream in about half the time.
They were soon afloat now, for Harvey was impatient to be off, and hewas by consent the one to give the signal. The Ellison brothers wouldgladly have delayed, but Harvey, at a word from Henry Burns, was firm.
They took their places, struck the water together at the sound of thehorn, and the second day's race was begun.
Confident as were the occupants of the second and third canoes, it was abit disconcerting, at the outset, to see the leaders go swiftly pastthem on the way down stream, while they had still to go on against thecurrent up to the turning point. Moreover, the leading canoe qui
cklycaught a patch of swift running water, which the Ellisons had carriedaround the day before, but could run now, by merely guiding their canoe.So, at the start, they made an encouraging gain, and turned once, at thefoot of some rapids, to wave back defiance at their opponents.
Skill and training were bound to tell, however. In the miles that werereeled off rapidly now, the second and third canoes gained on theleaders in the calm, still, sluggish places. There was more spring andsnap to their muscles. Their canoes moved faster through the water.
Eight miles down stream, they were overhauling the foremost canoerapidly, the canoes of Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harvey beingnearly abreast, and the four straining every nerve and muscle. TheWarrens had fallen at least a half mile behind them.
Luck had been with the Ellisons, surely; for running rapids in shallowwater is most uncertain work. Tom and Bob, old canoeists, knew well theappearance of water that denotes a sunken rock, and by sheer skill andwatchfulness turned their canoe aside ever and again with a quick sweepof the paddles, to avoid a treacherous place, where the water whirledominously. Henry Burns and Harvey had lately come down the stream, andknew by that experience how easy it was to get hung up when it was leastexpected.
Yet, with all experience, now and again a canoe would grate and perhapshang for a moment in some rapid; and once, when the canoe of Tom and Bobwould have shot ahead of Harvey's, they went hard aground, and lostprecious minutes.
When they were within a mile of the rapids where Henry Burns had wonhonours on the preceding day, however, Tom and Bob had shown the proofof their superior training and skill; they were leading Harvey and HenryBurns and were close upon the leaders.
"Cheer up, Jack," said Henry Burns, coolly, to his comrade; "they oughtto win, but we've given them a good race, anyway. Something may happenyet."
And something did happen--but not to the canoe steered by Tom Harris.
The three foremost canoes were now upon the brink of the worst rapids,and each youth was bracing himself for the run. They saw the Ellisonsshoot quickly over the brink, go swiftly down the smooth incline intothe rougher water. All at once, the canoe seemed to be checked abruptlyand hang for a moment. Then it slid on again. But the damage had beendone. A sharp point of ledge had penetrated the canvas, and the canoewas leaking.
Down went the two next canoes, one after the other; deftly handled;sheering a little this way and that, as the watchful eyes detected thesigns of danger; riding gallantly through the frothing, fretting rapidsinto clear water beyond. Their pace was not abated much as they got intotheir swing again, and, one by one, they passed the Ellisons. Thelatter's canoe, encumbered by water that leaked slightly but steadilythrough the rent in the canvas, dragged somewhat and had to be bailedbefore they had gone a half mile further.
That afternoon, a boy, barefoot and hatless, stood by the shore at apoint a little way above the Ellison dam, anxiously watching up streamas far as he could see. That he was intensely excited was evident by theway he fidgeted about; and once he climbed a birch tree that overhungthe water and gazed away from that perch.
"Hello, Tim," said a voice close by him, suddenly. "What are you lookingfor?"
"Oh, hello, Bess," responded Tim Reardon, turning about in surprise."How you startled me! I'm watching for the canoes--don't you know aboutit? Cracky, but don't I hope Jack'll win."
"Why don't you go out on the logs?" queried the girl. "You can see upstream farther from there. Come on."
Without waiting for a reply, Bess Thornton darted out across atreacherous pathway of light cedar and spruce logs that lay, confinedby a log-boom, waiting to be sawed into shingle stuff; for the old milloccasionally did that work, also, as well as grinding corn. Many of thelogs were not of sufficient size to support even the girl's lightweight, but sank beneath her, wetting her bare feet. She sprang lightlyfrom one to another, pausing now and then to rest and balance herself onsome larger log that sustained her. Little Tim, equally at home aboutthe water, followed.
The boom confining this lot of logs was made of larger and longer logs,chained together at the ends, and extending in a long irregular linefrom a point up the shore down toward the dam, to a point just above thelanding place for the canoes. Tim Reardon and Bess Thornton ran alongthis boom as far as it extended up stream.
Presently Little Tim gave a yell and nearly pitched head-first into thestream.
"They're coming! they're coming!" he cried. "Who's ahead? Can you see?"
The next moment he gave an exclamation of dismay. Two canoes shot arounda bend of the stream, one not far behind the other--but the secondcanoe, to Little Tim's disappointment, that guided by Jack Harvey. Tomand Bob had a fair lead, and, by the way they were putting life intotheir strokes, seemed likely to maintain it.
"Ow wow," bawled Little Tim. "Come on, Jack! Come on, Henry! You canbeat 'em yet. Give it to 'em!"
Bess Thornton, catching the enthusiasm and spirit of her companion, andespying who the occupants of the second canoe were, added her cries ofencouragement to those of Little Tim.
But the leaders came on steadily and surely, heading in slightly towardthe point on shore where they would disembark to make the carry aboutthe dam.
Away up the stream, two more canoes could be seen, about abreast, thefour boys plying their paddles with all the strength in them.
So the leading canoe passed the boy and girl, Little Tim yelling himselfhoarse, with encouragement to Harvey and Henry Burns to come on. Surelyif there had been any impelling power in noise, Tim's cries would haveturned the scale in favour of his friends.
The leading canoe touched shore, and Tom and Bob sprang lightly out;snatched up their craft and were off up the bank, to make the carry.Henry Burns and Harvey headed in to do likewise. But now Bess Thornton,catching Tim suddenly by an arm, started back down the boom, saying tohim, "Come on quick." He, surprised, wondering what she meant, followed.
The girl ran swiftly along the line of logs to a point a little wayabove the dam. There the line of the boom swung inshore in a sweep tothe left. To the right of them, as they stood, was the deep, blackwater, flowing powerfully in the middle of the stream, and with a strongcurrent, toward an opening in the dam. This was the long flume, a steep,long incline, down which the water of the stream raced with greatvelocity. It was built to carry rafts of logs through from time totime--a chute, planked in on either side, with the entrance formed bythe cutting down of the top of the dam there a few feet. There was nogreat depth of water in the flume--no one seemed to know just how much.It depended on the height of water in the stream.
Now the girl, waving to Harvey and Henry Burns, cried shrilly for themto watch. Surprised, they ceased their paddling for a moment and lookedover to where she stood.
To their amazement and Little Tim's horror, the girl, barefoot andbare-armed, and clad in a light calico frock, gave a laugh and divedinto the stream. A moment more, she reappeared a few feet from the boom,and was unmistakably heading for the swift water beyond running down tothe flume.
"Come back!" cried Little Tim. "You'll get drowned there. You're goinginto the flume."
The girl turned on her side as she swam, calling out:
"Tell 'em to come on. They'll beat the others. I've been through oncebefore."
Again she turned, while Little Tim stood with knees shaking. Henry Burnsand Harvey, seeing the girl's apparent peril, uttered each anexclamation of alarm, and headed out once more into the stream.
But they were helpless. A moment more, and they saw the girl caught bythe swift rush of the water. Waving an arm just as she went over theedge of the incline, she straightened out and lay at full length, so asto keep as nearly as she could at the surface. She disappeared, and theywaited what seemed an age, but was scarcely more than two minutes. Then,all at once, there came up to their ears, from far below, the clear,yodelling cry of Bess Thornton. She had gone safely through.
It was a serious moment for Tim Reardon. There wasn't a better swimmerof his size in all Benton. Only a few of t
he larger lads dared to divewith him from the very top of Pulpit Rock, a high point on the bank ofthe stream, some miles below. Now he was stumped by a girl no biggerthan himself, and he felt his knees wabbling in uncertain fashion at thethought of attempting the flume. And there was his big friend, Harvey,and Henry Burns, waiting out on the water, uncertain as to what theyshould do. He might aid them to win the race. Or he might hang back, bebeaten, himself, by a girl, and Harvey and Henry Burns would lose.
Little Tim gazed for one moment out into midstream, to where the water,black and gleaming, rushed smoothly and swiftly into the opening of thesluice-way. Then he got his voice under control as best he could, wavedtoward the canoe and shouted:
"Come on, Jack. I'll show yer. It's e-e-asy."
Little Tim shut his eyes, swallowed a lump in his throat, dived from theboom and made a long swim under water. When he reappeared, he was nearthe swift current, a little way below where the canoe lay.
"Come on, fellers," he cried again--and the next moment Henry Burns andHarvey saw him disappear over the edge of the dam. It seemed as thoughthere had been hardly time for him to be borne down to the foot of thedescent before they heard his voice, calling triumphantly back to them.
Henry Burns turned and gave one quick, inquiring glance at hiscompanion. In return, Harvey gave a whistle that denoted his surprise atthe odd turn of affairs, and said shortly, "Got to do it now. We can gothrough if they can. Hang that girl! Get a good brace now. Gimminy, lookat that water run!"
They were on the very brink, as he spoke; and, even as he muttered thelast exclamation, the canoe dipped to the incline of the chute and wentdarting down its smooth surface. They hardly saw the sides of the flumeas they shot by. Almost instantly, it seemed, they were in the tumbling,boiling waters at the foot of it, Henry Burns crouching low in the bow,so as not to be pitched overboard; Harvey bracing for one moment withhis paddle and striking the water furiously the next, to keep it on itscourse.
The canoe shipped water, and they feared it would be swamped; but theykept on. Then, as they swept past a jutting of ledge that bordered thelower shore, two figures standing together waved to them and cried outjoyously:
"Paddle hard! Go it, Jack! Give it to her, Henry! You're way ahead.They're not half 'round the bank yet. Hooray!"
Spurred by the cries, the two canoeists plied their paddles with renewedzeal. So on they emerged into smooth water. Away up the bank, Tom andBob, dismayed, saw their rivals take the lead in the long race--a leadthat could not be overcome.
Sitting up proudly, Henry Burns and Harvey raced past the familiarshores, saw the old camp come into view, shot across the finishing line,and the race was won. Standing on the bank, they watched the others cometrailing in: Tom and Bob not far behind; the Warren boys third, and theEllisons last.
"Yes," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly, as they sat outside the camp alittle later, "but you had to get a girl to show you how to beat us."
"How'd you know you could go through there, anyway?" he added, turningto the girl who, with Little Tim had come down the shore to see thefinish.
"Did it to get away from gran' once," replied Bess Thornton, her eyestwinkling. "My, but wasn't she scared. It's easy, though, isn't it,Tim?"
"Easy! It's nothin'," said Little Tim.