CHAPTER V.
HARRY IS RESCUED

“I can stay on deck, can’t I?” asked Dora, as she turned the tiller over to the homeless youth.

“If you wish. But be very careful when the sloop swings around,” replied Jerry. “You did very well,” he added.

Dora smiled at this. Then she went forward and settled down, in spite of the rain, to help look for Harry Parker, whose folks she knew fairly well.

The Cutwater was put on a different track, and they began to move across the lake, it being Jerry’s idea to cross and recross at a distance of every six or seven hundred feet.

Twice did they come close to each shore without seeing anything of Harry.

“Gone down, suah’s you’re born!” said Blumpo, and the tears started out of his big, honest eyes.

“I am afraid so,” returned Jerry, “and yet – hark!”

He put up his hand and all were instantly on the alert. The wind had gone down somewhat, and from a distance came a low cry.

“It’s Harry’s!” said Jerry. “Hullo, Harry!” he yelled, with all the power of his lungs.

He waited, and an answering cry came back from toward the center of the lake. It was very weak, showing that Harry was almost exhausted.

The course of the sloop was instantly changed, and they strove to reach the spot before the boy should go down.

Jerry was the first to see the form floating about amid the whitecaps.

“Keep up, Harry!” he called encouragingly. “We will soon have you on board.”

“I can’t keep up any longer,” gasped his chum. “I am played out.” And throwing up his arms, Harry disappeared.

Tying the end of a long rope about his waist, Jerry leaped overboard. He struck the spot where Harry had gone down and felt in every direction for his chum.

His hand touched an arm, and then he held Harry fast and brought him to the surface. The poor boy was too weak to make the first movement.

“Haul in on the rope, Blumpo!” called Jerry.

Turning the tiller over to Dora Vincent, the homeless youth did as directed.

Jerry, with his burden, was soon brought alongside.

It was no easy matter to hoist Harry on deck in the storm, but at last it was accomplished, and Jerry followed his charge.

Harry was unconscious, and he was taken to the cabin, where Dora and the other girls did all in their power for him; and then the Cutwater was headed for Lakeview, two miles distant.

The hurricane, or whatever it might be called, had by this time spent itself. The rain ceased and before the lake town came into view the sun shone once more as brightly as ever.

Clarence Conant came on deck looking very much annoyed. He felt that he had played the part of a coward, and knew he would have no easy time of it to right himself in the eyes of the young ladies.

“The – ah – truth is, I was very sick,” he explained to Jerry. “I got a – ah – spasm of the – ah – heart.”

“Sure it wasn’t a spasm in your great toe?” said Jerry, with a grin.

But Clarence never smiled. It would not have been good form, you know.

As soon as the dock was reached, Jerry left Blumpo to tie up and went to Harry. He found his chum able to sit up. He was very weak, but that was all.

“It was a close call for me, Jerry,” said Harry, with a shudder. “I owe you my life.”

“It was a close call all around,” replied our hero. “We can be thankful that we are here safe and sound.”

Harry felt too weak to walk, so a carriage was called to take him home. Jerry went with him, while Blumpo went over to the grocery store to tell of all that had happened.

Clarence Conant was utterly left. He tried to excuse himself to Dora Vincent and the other young ladies, but they would have nothing to do with him.

“The next time I go out it will be with somebody who can manage a boat, and who is brave enough to do it, even in a storm,” said Dora, and walked away with her lady friends.

“Beastly bad job, beastly!” muttered Clarence to himself. “And my best sailor suit utterly ruined, too! Oh, why did that storm have to come up on us?”

But this was not the end of the matter for the dude.

The row-boat that had been smashed was a valuable one belonging to the Lakeview Boat Club. They did not care to lose the cost of it, and so called on Conant to pay for the same.

At first he refused, but when they threatened arrest he weakened. It took nearly three weeks of his salary to square accounts, and then the young man was utterly crushed. He never went sailing again.

It did not take Harry long to recover from the effects of his outing on the lake. Inside of a week he was as well as ever.

Blumpo took good care to tell every one of all that had happened, and on every side Jerry was praised for his daring work in saving the Cutwater and his chum.

We have spoken of the match to take place between Jerry and Si Peters of Rockpoint. This was postponed for two weeks on Si’s account.

Si Peters was a tall overgrown youth of eighteen, and was generally considered to be the best oarsman on the lake.

Consequently, when a match was arranged by the clubs to which they belonged between the pair it was thought, even by many Lakeview people, that Si Peters would win.

Si had one great advantage over Jerry. His father was rich, while Jerry’s father was poor. Consequently, while Jerry had to help on the farm during idle hours Si Peters could go out and practice, and thus get himself in perfect condition.

It was this fact that made Si think he was going to have an easy time defeating Jerry.

But, unknown to him, Jerry got more time than he thought. Harry was anxious to have his chum win, and spoke to his father about it.

Now, Mr. Parker and Si Peters’ father were not on good terms, and the former readily agreed to a plan Harry proposed.

“Mr. Upton,” he said one evening, when he met Jerry’s father down in the town, “I would like to hire Jerry to work for me every afternoon for a couple of weeks.”

“All right, Mr. Parker,” said Jerry’s father, promptly. “When do you want him to come?”

“To-morrow, if he can. I’ll pay you five dollars a week.”

“Very well. You can pay Jerry.”

So it was settled, and every afternoon the young oarsman went over to the Parker place, which bordered on the lake.

Here Jerry would practice in secret in a little cove seldom visited by any boats.

As the time grew close for the race between Jerry and Si Peters the boat clubs began to bet on their favorites.

So sure were the Rockpointers that they would win, that they gave the Lakeview people heavy odds.

Together the two clubs put up as a trophy a silver cup, which later on would be engraved with the name of the winner.

Of course, Jerry’s father soon found out what his son was doing.

But he would not break his bargain with Mr. Parker, and so let Jerry practice every afternoon, feeling sure that Jerry would not take the money the rich manufacturer had offered.

“You will win,” said Harry, confidently.

“I shall try my best,” returned Jerry.

Si Peters and his friends smiled broadly whenever they came over to Lakeview.

“Jerry Upton won’t be in it after the first quarter,” said they.

The race was to be a mile, half a mile each way, the turning point being a well-known rocky island scarcely fifty feet in diameter.

Jerry kept at his practice steadily until the great day for the race arrived.

CHAPTER VI.
THE SINGLE SHELL RACE

The race had been spoken of so much that Lakeview presented a holiday appearance.

All those who could, crossed over from Rockpoint, and many came from other places.

The lake was crowded with craft of all sorts, and even standing room along the shore was at a premium.

Even Farmer Upton grew interested.

“You must win that race, son,” he said. “Not only for your own sake, but for the sake of the whole Lakeview district.”

And this made Jerry more determined to win than ever.

The race was not to come off until three o’clock in the afternoon. In the meanwhile there were half a dozen other contests, in which, however, the masses took but small interest.

While one of these contests was going on, and Jerry was in the dressing room of the boathouse putting on his rowing rig, Harry came in excitedly.

“Jerry, you want to be on your guard,” he said in a low tone, so that those standing about might not hear.

“On guard? How?”

“Against Si Peters.”

“I don’t understand.”

“From what I have overheard, I imagine there is a plot on foot to make you lose the race.”

“What sort of a plot?”

“I can’t say.”

The young oarsman gazed at his chum in perplexity.

“What have you heard? I don’t know what to make of this.”

“You know Wash Crosby?”

“Yes. He is Si Peters’ toady.”

“Well, I heard him tell Browling that it was a dead sure thing Si would win.”

“That might have been mere blowing.”

“No. Browling thought so, too, but then Crosby whispered in his ear. At once Browling’s face took on a look of cunning.

“ ‘Can you do it?’ he asked, and Crosby said he could.

“Then Browling said he would put out his money on Si, if he could find anyone to bet. You know the whole crowd is rich.”

“Yes, and I know another thing!” exclaimed Jerry suddenly. “I fancy I can see through their plan.”

“What?”

“Crosby owns a steam launch, you know.”

“I do.”

“What is to prevent him from running the launch so that I shall get all the swash? It would make me lose a quarter minute or more, and perhaps upset me.”

“Jiminey crickets! I believe you are right!” whispered Harry.

“Did they mention the steam launch?”

“They did. Browling said he would go and take a look at her.”

“Then that is what the plot is, you may be sure of it. You ought to be able to stop them, Harry. You are going to be on your uncle’s naptha launch.”

“I will! If they get too close to you I’ll boathook them and pull them off!” cried Harry.

“Good for you.”

“But beware, Jerry, the plot may not be that after all.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” replied the young oarsman.

A minute after this Harry went off.

Then Jerry, having donned his rowing outfit, was surrounded by the other members of the club. His shell was inspected and found in perfect condition. It had been guarded carefully, and now the club members did not dare to let their eyes off of it.

“Bring me my blades, please,” said Jerry, and they were at once brought from the locker.

He began to examine them from end to end. Suddenly he uttered a cry.

“Boys, look here!”

“What’s up, Jerry?”

“This one has been strained and cracked. An extra hard pull on it, and it would give out.”

A murmur arose.

“Who did this?”

“Some enemy wants Jerry to lose, sure!”

How the blade had got into that condition was a mystery.

But now was no time to speculate on the affair. A new set of blades must be procured at once.

Luckily there was a pair belonging to a private party to be had. They were just the same size and weight.

“I would rather have my own, but I’ll make these do, and beat them in spite of all,” said Jerry.

At a given signal six of the boat club boys marched down the float carrying Jerry’s shell, which had been polished and oiled until it shone like a mirror.

With a faint splash the shell dropped into the water. Then Jerry ran down and stepped in. His feet were “locked,” and the oars were handed over.

“Hurrah for Jerry Upton!”

“He’s the boy to win!”

“Hurrah for Si Peters!”

“Jerry won’t be in it with Si!”

“He will!”

“Never!”

And so the talking and the shouting ran on.

Meanwhile Si Peters had emerged from the landing at a private boathouse some distance up the lake shore.

He received a hearty shout as he moved slowly over to the starting point.

Si Peters won the choice of positions, and, of course, took the inside.

The race should have been a mile straightway, but the original challenge which led to the race had been for a half mile going and the same coming.

Soon the two boys were in position.

“Ready?”

There was a dead silence.

Bang!

They were off! Both boys caught the water at the same instant. Each pulled a long but quick stroke. Ten yards were covered, and they remained side by side.

“Pull, Si!”

“Go it, Jerry!”

Like two clocks, so far as regularity went, the two contestants bent their backs and pulled with might and main.

One thing was certain, unless something happened, it would be a close race.

But now the Lakeview boys were getting wild.

“See Jerry! He is gaining.”

“Jerry is five feet and more in the lead!”

It was true. Slowly but surely our hero was forging ahead. Should he be able to keep this up he would cross Si Peters’ course at the turning point.

But now Wash Crosby showed his hand. Without so much as a toot of the whistle, his steam launch kept drawing closer and closer to Jerry’s side.

Then it gradually went ahead, until Jerry was caught in the swash of the tiny waves it produced.

Under ordinary circumstances these waves would not have been noticed, but in a shell, and especially during a race, even such apparent trifles count heavily.

“Keep off!” shouted the young oarsman.

“Mind your business!” shouted Wash Crosby in return, but so lowly that no one but Jerry could hear him. “This is Si Peters’ race!”