CHAPTER XXXI.

THE RACES.

Ben did not refer to his discovery, and after he had explained the reasons why he had returned alone to the camp he joined Mrs. Cope, who was seated in a camp-chair on the high bluff, and delightedly watching the constantly shifting scene which the great river presented. The pleasure Jock's mother felt in the marked improvement in her son's appearance was certainly shared by his two friends, and Bob demurely remarked that he even had hopes that Ben and Bert would also "improve," a wish which Ben laughingly declared was destined to be blighted.

As the shadows of evening began to appear, the return of the absent members of the party at once drew the attention of all to them, and while Ethan and Tom prepared supper, Mr. Cope described his visit to the old schoolhouse, and the enjoyment he had experienced in revisiting the scenes of his boyhood. His wife declared that she believed he had regained some of his boyish spirits too, for it had been long since she had seen him so animated and enthusiastic.

Just as Ethan announced that supper was ready, a skiff was seen approaching the dock, and a messenger-boy advanced with several telegrams, which Mr. Cope had left word at the hotel should be forwarded to the camp.

As Mr. Cope tore open the yellow envelopes, Ethan curiously observed his old-time friend, and when the telegrams had been read, said,--

"I hope ye haven't had any bad news, Jock?"

Mr. Cope laughed as he replied, "Rather bad for me, I fear. I shall have to return to New York to-night. You see, Ethan, I can't have more than a day off. I almost envy you your freedom."

"Did they send ye word in the telegrams?" inquired the boatman.

"Yes. They are about important business engagements."

"Bus'ness!" exclaimed Ethan. "I didn't s'pose any one ever telegraphed jist about bus'ness. I thought nobody ever telegraphed unless somebody was dead. Hi Perkins once telegraphed to his ma when he thought he was goin' to die with the pewmony; but it costs four shillin' for ten words, I'm told. Must be mighty important business what would make anybody send ye five or six on 'em."

"It is important; so important that I shall have to go back to the Bay and start for home to-night. I'm sorry, too. But then, if a business man doesn't have very much outside pleasure in life, his wife and children can have it, and he must take his in knowing that."

Soon after supper Mr. Cope bade good-by to the boatman and boys, and with Mrs. Cope and Jock departed for Alexandria Bay. Jock was to remain at the hotel for the night, but was to return to the camp in the morning, though his mother was to stay at the hotel until the boys should be ready to break camp and go home with her.

Apparently Jock's mother enjoyed the experience of the days which followed as much as did the boys themselves. Every day she was rowed over to Pine Tree Island, and sometimes the boys were persuaded to return with her for a dinner at the hotel, or to be present of an evening when something of special interest was occurring in the parlors.

Her friends, the Clarkes, also did much to add to the pleasure, for with their yacht they made various trips among the islands, or planned for picnics which were a never failing source of delight to all.

At last came the great day of the canoe races, and as it had been arranged that all the friends should go on Mr. Clarke's yacht to the place selected, and take a position on the river from which the races could be seen from beginning to end, the occasion had been looked forward to with great anticipations.

When the happy party stopped at the dock for Mrs. Cope and the boys, the greetings were unusually enthusiastic, for a more perfect day had not been seen since the campers had come to Pine Tree Island.

A few masses of silver clouds could be seen in the sky, but the sun was shining clear and strong. A gentle breeze ruffled the surface of the river, and the air was delightfully cool and bracing. Life was indeed worth living now, and as the light-hearted members of the party assembled on board the yacht, their laughter and joyous expressions seemed all a part of the day.

When Ben quietly picked up his canoe and placed that too on board, a shout greeted him; but as all already knew that he was determined to enter the contest, for he previously had entered his name, no one was surprised; but when, a moment later, Bob came, bringing with him a dress-suit case, evidently heavily laden, a fresh shout of surprise was given him.

"Oh, I knew Ben would fall into the water," he declared, "so I have brought a change of clothing for him. I'm very tender-hearted. It's my nature, though, and I can't help it, so you needn't bestow any praise on me."

"I shouldn't be surprised if you needed a change yourself," rejoined Ben, "before you've finished your race."

"Whom are you talking about?" demanded Bob, in surprise. "I haven't had any time to practise. I've been too busy."

"I know all about your busy-ness," retorted Ben, sharply.

Bob glanced up quickly, but Ben was looking out over the river now, and it was impossible to catch his eye. The yacht was free from the dock by this time, and was speeding swiftly down the river. For a time, apparently, all other things were forgotten in the joy of the morning. Other parties could be seen on the river, and it was evident that they too had started for the same destination, and as the voyage continued, the number of the boats steadily increased. Canoes, skiffs, steam-yachts, launches, sailboats, all were there, some draped with bright colors, all displaying flags, and every one carrying eager-hearted spectators who were acting as if life never had known a care or sorrow.

At last our party arrived at the place where the races were to be held, and bright-colored buoys, indicative of the course, could be seen on the water. Patrol boats kept the course free, and Mr. Clarke soon selected a favorable place and his yacht was anchored.

Ben now prepared to take his canoe and start for the head of the course, where all those who were to participate were to assemble. As he lowered the canoe into the water, Bob approached him, and said soberly,--

"I think I'll go with you, Ben. I've got your clothes here, and you'll need some one to look after you. I'm the kind-hearted friend to do that very thing."

"I was expecting you to say that," replied Ben. "I was wondering why you didn't speak up before. Where's your craft, Bob?"

"My craft! Why, I haven't any here, and you know it;" but a peculiar twinkle in Ben's eye caused him to approach, and a whispered conversation at once followed.

No one of the others could hear what was said, but the result was apparent when Ben consented to his friend's going with him, and in a brief time both boys were in the canoe, and Ben was ready to push off.

"You'll not forget that we have some luncheon on board, boys," called Miss Bessie. "You'll surely be back in time to have some of that."

"Don't be alarmed," laughed Ben. "I never knew Bob to be late for anything of that kind. I trust you have enough; for he'll be hungry, I can promise you."

A cheer followed the boys as Ben dipped his paddle in the water, and the canoe darted forward under his powerful strokes. His long form was not particularly graceful, but the speed of his canoe promised well, and Jock turned to the others and said,--

"I shouldn't be surprised if Ben did get a place in the finals to-day. He's improved wonderfully. The way he has kept at it is a lesson for us all. I wish he might win. I wonder what Bob really went with him for? Do you know I half suspect he's got a scheme of some kind of his own."

No one replied, for the sound of a pistol was now heard, and the first of the races was begun. It was a contest between cat-boats, and as the beautiful little crafts swept into sight and dipped low before the strong and favoring breeze, the shrill whistles of the steam-yachts, the waving of handkerchiefs, and the shouts of the people welcomed them.

As no one in our party was acquainted with any of the participants in this race, their interest naturally was not as keen as it was to be in some of the contests which were to follow, but they nevertheless were enthusiastic observers of the man[oe]uvres of the skilfully handled boats. On they came, keeping well in line, their white sails and whiter sides glistening in the sunlight, and presenting a wondrously beautiful spectacle as they swept down the river.

As Mr. Clarke now discovered that most of the yachts were not anchored, but were free to follow the contestants outside the buoys, he, too, took his anchor on board and steamed down the river so that they could watch the boats all the way. The shores of the islands were lined with interested spectators, and the waving of bunting, and the cheers of the people, as the fleet boats approached, redoubled.

At last the stake was turned, and the boats started on the home stretch. They were not bunched as they had been, but three had gained over their rivals, and, well together, were tacking and striving each to gain an advantage over the others. It could be seen now that one was more skilfully handled than the other two, and soon it was distinctly gaining upon both. On and on they came, and finally the _Thistle_, bending gracefully before the breeze, swept first across the line, the men on board swinging their caps and shouting in their delight, while the screams of the whistles and the cheers of the spectators sounded shrilly in response. It certainly was a very inspiring sight, and the party on board Mr. Clarke's yacht, though they were strangers to the winners, were cheering as lustily in their delight as if it had been one of their own company who had secured the first prize.

A race between canoes equipped with double bat-winged sails followed, and the stirring scene was again enacted. The whistles blew and banners were waved, and the winning boat was as lustily cheered as the successful one in the first contest had been.

Then followed a contest between canoes with a single bat-wing sail, and once more the interest of the spectators voiced itself in the same expressive manner which had been used before.

The excitement on the yacht very markedly increased when it was learned that the next race was to be between canoes with one paddler in each.

In the row of beautiful little canoes which took their places in line, Ben's long form could be easily distinguished. As the party hailed his appearance with a cheer, Ben turned and discovered them, and while striving to wave his cap in response, almost destroyed his balance, and was very nearly thrown into the river.

There was no disposition among his friends to laugh now, and the girls uttered a little cry of dismay at the threatened mishap; but as Ben speedily regained his balance, they all became silent as they watched him intently. His long arms were bare, and his bright red sweater was to be easily distinguished in the line. In a moment the pistol sounded, and the racers were off.

There were seven contestants, and their paddles struck the water together. For a few minutes the line was almost unbroken; then it could be seen that three or four were pulling ahead of their rivals, and among the number was Ben. Faster and faster swept the frail little barks, and the interest of the spectators was evidently much keener than it had been in the other contests. The forms of the paddlers seemed to move like clock-work. The paddles were dipped rapidly and steadily, and the race between the leaders was very close. Slowly Ben gained upon his nearest rival and passed him, and then, with longer, swifter strokes, strove to gain upon the two who were still in advance of him.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, the distance decreased. Soon only about twenty yards remained between him and the end. Once more the determined boy bent to his task. His body swayed back and forth, the paddle was driven deeper into the water, and the light canoe seemed to gain increased speed. People were cheering wildly all about him, and a cloud of banners seemed to be waving on every side.

Again Ben responded, and was striving to use all his remaining power. He was not directly behind his competitors, being several yards to their left, and now he was not more than two feet in their rear. If only the course were a little longer, he thought, he would surely win; but shutting his teeth firmly together, he doggedly resolved to do his best. His eyes were almost closed, and his breath was coming in gasps.

Suddenly there was a moment of intense silence, as the shouting abruptly ceased, but Ben was oblivious of it all. In a moment, however, the shouting redoubled, there was a shrill screech of the whistles, and Ben knew that he was across the line and alone.

As he turned about he discovered that his competitors had met with a mishap, and that one, in his zeal, had paddled directly into the other, and both canoes had been capsized in the collision. Their misfortune had left Ben the winner.

The yacht speedily approached, and as the girls waved their handkerchiefs and his friends called out their approval, Mr. Clarke assisted him to come on board.

"I can congratulate you on winning the race," said Mr. Clarke, cordially.

"Oh, I haven't won it," replied Ben, his flushed face beaming with pleasure. "That's only the preliminary. The finals are to come off this afternoon."

Somewhat disappointed, the party was headed up the river again, and soon approached the starting-place. They all laughed when they learned that a tub race was now to take place, and the astonishment of all except Ben was great when they discovered that one of the contestants was none other than their missing friend, Bob.