"Well?" said Harvey, "got enough?"

"No," replied Henry Burns, and added deliberately, with a twinkle in his eyes, "we might as well do it, now we've started. We've got two days to get up over there in, you know."

"Good for you!" exclaimed Harvey. "Come on, if you're ready. We've got time yet before Tom and Bob make the carry."

They bent to the paddles and got once more to the sunken ledge, panting and perspiring, for they had worked hard and the current seemed, therefore, even swifter now than before. There, holding their canoe in place, they waited a little longer than on the first attempt, to rest and study the current.

"Let's try the right hand from the ledge this time," said Henry Burns.

"Those whirls mean shallow places. Perhaps the bottom isn't so slippery."

He pointed at some almost imperceptible breaks in the ebony surface of the slope, and Harvey agreed.

"I can shove this canoe up over there as sure as you're alive," said Harvey, gazing proudly at a pair of muscular arms that were certainly eloquent of strength; "that is, if you can keep her head straight. Don't try to do much of the poling. Just try to hold what I gain each time, till I can get a fresh hold. What do you say--rested enough?"

"Aye, aye, captain," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Up we go."

Again the canoe dropped back a little from the ledge, and again they caught and held it and shoved out into the current--this time on the right, instead of the left side.

Their comrades ash.o.r.e watched anxiously. They saw the canoe strike the swift running of the water and hang for a moment, as if irresolute, uncertain whether it would turn its bow upstream or be swerved broadside. The moment it hung there seemed minutes in duration. They saw Henry Burns, lithe and agile, but cool and self-possessed, strike his pole into the slope of the water where he had seen a shallow spot. And the pole held.

The watchers ash.o.r.e saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift current, lying upon its polished slope as though upon a sheet of gla.s.s.

They saw Harvey in the stern set his pole and shove mightily, his muscles knotted and his face drawn and grim with determination. They saw the canoe slowly gain against the current.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE WATCHERS ASh.o.r.e SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE THE SWIFT CURRENT."]

At the edge of the slope it stood still for what seemed an age. They saw the two in bow and stern struggle desperately again and again to wrest their craft from the clutch of the current. Then, almost with a leap, freed from the fierce resistance of the rapids, the canoe slid over the brink of the incline, into the deeper part of the stream above.

A moment later, they saw the poles dropped and the paddles s.n.a.t.c.hed up.

The canoe shot swiftly ahead, propelled by triumphant arms. The rapids were conquered. Henry Burns and Harvey had won their hard fight.

In vain had Tom and Bob, hurrying recklessly, b.u.mping their canoe along the rough sh.o.r.e, essayed to complete the carry before it would be too late. To their chagrin and dismay, the sound of a horn blown three times with a vigour announced to them the triumph of their comrades. Sadly they shouldered their canoe, which they had set down at the first blast of the horn, and turned their faces back along the trail, toward the foot of the rapids.

Likewise, the Warren boys, accepting the inevitable, turned back and prepared to attempt the difficult feat which they had seen accomplished.

At all events, they were, by reason of their position in the rear of Tom and Bob, in possession of that much advantage over the more skilled canoeists.

"Whew! but that was a tough one," exclaimed Harvey, dipping his paddle leisurely, and recovering his breath. "Say, look at poor old Tom and Bob--the champion canoeists. Bet they feel sore."

Henry Burns turned, looked back and smiled. Then, gazing up stream again, he said, "Yes, but look there."

At a bend of the stream, fully a half mile ahead, the first canoe was gliding easily along.

Harvey groaned. "And they'd be back there, too," he exclaimed, "if we hadn't made that slip. Never mind, there's another day coming."

It seemed a long, long time, and they, themselves, had reached a point fully a half mile above the rapids, before they espied first one canoe and then another achieving the incline. They could not discern which was in the lead, but it proved later to be the canoe handled by Tom and Bob, the Warrens having made two failures before succeeding, giving time to the others to come up and pa.s.s them. They were about abreast now, coming along slowly.

It was smooth paddling now, along the sh.o.r.es of green meadows and pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below, the canoes were drawn out on sh.o.r.e and luncheon was eaten. They built no fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in, the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, a.s.suring the Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place."

The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons together.

CHAPTER IX

AN EXCITING FINISH

When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there was 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 Ellisons fully a mile.

Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for carrying it out.

But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way that 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 glance back over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with a sharper 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'm going to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt."

So saying, he called to his companion to "give it to 'em lively," and they set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceed the speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as that would not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into their normal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more.

The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill and endurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell off slower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, their muscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond to the call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bob were gaining on both.

On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessary according to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing they were gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionable rapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob and the Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty.

Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certain Tom and Bob must have overtaken and pa.s.sed their rivals. But now the time for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presently Harvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Four blasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answering blasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoes headed for sh.o.r.e. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in the lead.

But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoe there was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey and Henry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more.

Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craft and the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddled gamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind the leaders.

Leaving their canoes drawn up on sh.o.r.e, at precisely the spot where each had been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shook hands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy.

"But look out for to-morrow," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking a fist at Jim Ellison.

They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of three bamboo 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, and would not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it was clear and no danger of a wetting.

Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoe furnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail for boiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon for frying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the open s.p.a.ce in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and the coffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced in the ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowing coals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, just out of reach of burning.

The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire, hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all was ready, 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 appet.i.tes; and the amount of crisp bacon and hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled the proprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he had had to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-by pastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, they were ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of the first stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, each rolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf.

"Well?" remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up and looking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harvey gave a yawn, stretched and roused up. "I feel fine," he answered. "Lame any?" "Not a bit," replied Henry Burns.

Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bob already up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed.