THE RACE IS WON
Lake Luna was a blaze of glory between Centerport and Cavern Island—the June sunshine over all and every boat along the racing course bright with pennants and streamers. The two fussy little launches bearing the officers who managed the races puffed up and down the open water, and the big police launch kept the spectators' boats back of the line.
Ashore the highlands were black with spectators, while the driveway was crowded with vehicles of every description. Keyport and Lumberport had been drawn upon to swell the crowds of lookers-on. The railroads and steam-boats had brought crowds to the race. It was indeed a gala day.
Promptly at one o'clock the events began. The trial of speed between the boys' eight-oared shells was the first of the juvenile contests, and these latter trials gained almost as much interest from the crowds as did the first races.
The boys of Central High, with Chet and Lance and six others at the sculls, and Short and Long to steer, pulled a splendid race, and came in second—the junior crew of the famous Luna Boat Club being the winner. At least the boys of Central High won over the crews of all the other high schools on the lake.
The canoe race was a mixed event, for there was no sex limitation in canoeing. The Lockwood twins had been chosen, after all, to represent Central High, and Hester Grimes and Lily Pendleton were not even among the spectators at the races. They had accused Mrs. Case of "favoritism," although their record for speed was much below that of the twins.
Dora and Dorothy did their very best; but they could scarcely expect to win over all comers in this race. Like the boys' eight, however, they came in ahead of all the other school crews, being Number 3 at the finish. The race was won by grown men belonging to the Luna Boat Club.
After that the interest centered in the trial of speed between the girls' eights of the five high' schools. They had already been flashing about the lower course, "warming up," and as the five came into line at the signal of the starter, they presented a pretty sight.
Blue and white and crimson and white were the prevailing colors of the girls' blouses and skirts; but the East High girls wore black and gold. Blue blouses and skirts, with narrow white trimming, was the costume of Central High, and the nine girls in the graceful, polished cedar shell were cheered again and again as they came opposite the grandstand and boathouses.
There was Colonel Richard Swayne, who used to be so much opposed to girls' athletics, waving his cap, his bald head shining in the sun. And Principal Sharp was beside him, likewise cheering for his own crew.
Back on the driveway Aunt Dora actually stood up and waved her umbrella in recognition of the twins as the shell belonging to Central High came easily to the line. There were Laura's and Chet's parents, too, in the automobile; with Mrs. Morse and the doctor's wife; and even Alice Long, with Tommy, the irrepressible, and Katie and May, were all there, shouting and waving handkerchiefs, all hoping that the girls in the eight-oared shell would notice them.
Eve and Otto Sitz had ridden in to view the race; but they were in Prettyman Sweet's repaired launch, and Laura could hear the voice of the Swiss girl calling to her. The twins saw Aunt Dora and their father standing up in the carriage; but it was against the rules for the participants to notice the cheering crowd.
"Eyes in the boat, girls! Make ready!" snapped Bobby, bending forward in her seat. "He's getting ready to fire that pistol."
Celia Prime settled herself for the first stroke. "All ready?" she asked, and the girls behind her—Jess Morse, Dorothy Lockwood, Mary O'Rourke, Roberta Fish, Nellie Agnew, Dora Lockwood and Laura Belding—all murmured their acquiescence. The starter looked along the line of shells and got a nod from each coxswain.
The pistol spoke, and "They're off!" shouted the crowd. Like five huge water-spiders, the eight-oared shells darted along the course. With a strain and a heave at the end of every stroke, the boats were propelled in a magnificent burst of speed. For some rods there was scarcely any difference in the standing of the five crews.
Then, as in old times, Keyport drew ahead.
"Hang to 'em! Like bulldogs!" shouted Bobby Hargrew through the megaphone she wore strapped to her mouth.
Instantly Celia stretched out a little more and the clack of the oars in Central High boat sounded quicker. The new shell sped on and its bow was almost instantly at the stern of Keyport's boat. Behind, the other three crews were spread out badly. Only Lumberport was coming up at all. East and West Highs were no-where from the start.
The Keyport crew were pulling with all their might and main then, and they were still a long way from the line.
"Steady!" said Celia, through her teeth. "This will pass them."
Bobby gave the order to increase the stroke. The crew of Central High responded nobly. The bow of their boat crept up, slowly but surely, along the side of the Keyport craft. They could have passed the rival boat more quickly; but Celia was holding back reserve force for a spurt if such a thing became necessary.
The twins' toughened muscles did not feel the strain at first; but before the end of the course was sighted they were working blindly, like the other girls—mere pieces of mechanism engaged in a task that, as it continued, became a punishment! But that was what all the long weeks of practice and exercise had been for. Their bodies had learned to endure strains like this—and their wills, too.
The crowds in the boats and along the banks had never ceased to cheer and shout encouragement to their favorite crews. The race ended in a whirlwind finish, for Keyport endeavored to rally at the last. But then Central High with their new shell were a boat's length ahead, and they had kept that lead until they crossed the line.
Central High had won! The race had been a better one than that rowed a few weeks before between the same crews. The beautiful cup presented by the Luna Boat Club would have the place of honor in the Girls' Branch Athletic League house, when the latter structure was completed.
"We sha'n't have a chance to row with you infants again," said Mary O'Rourke, one of the seniors, who would be graduated from Central High in a few days; "but see that you do as well next term."
"And keep all friction out of the crew,'" advised Celia, as they pulled easily back to the boathouse.
"That means keep out Hester Grimes," said Bobby, sotto-voce. "We want to keep her out of all athletics if we are to win over the other schools. She'll queer our basketball team next."
Whether Bobby's prophecy was correct, or no, must be judged by the perusal of the next volume of this series, entitled "The Girls of Central High at Basketball; Or, The Great Gymnasium Mystery."
When the crew of the eight-oared shell reached the boathouse they learned of a happening which interested them deeply. The minute the boys' eight-oared shell of Central High had come in, a policeman had beckoned Chetwood Belding and Billy Long away. The boys were highly excited by this incident, and naturally their girl friends were, too.
But it was not until the last event of the day had been decided and the crowd of spectators had broken up and gone their ways that the young folk learned the mystery. Chet and Billy had been called to the Detective Bureau, where the chief met them with rather a severe countenance.
"So you two boys had no idea what was in that lard can you brought in here the other day?" he demanded.
"No, sir," said Chet, manfully. "Billy heard those two men talking about it. And he found it. He says he thinks there is money in it."
"And I should say there was!" ejaculated the police detective, with disgust. "Those Italians had us all fooled. We got the big fellow, who was sneaking back to try and get on the island again, and of course Tony Allegretto and his monkey has always been right under our eyes.
"By the way, Master Long!"
"Yes, sir?" answered Billy, wondering what was coming.
"You said you thought those men surveying back of Stresch & Potter's the day before the burglary, were working for the railroad?"
"That's what I thought, sir. I gathered it from what they said."
"And so they were. They were from the engineer's office of the C, P. & L. We found 'em. They had nothing to do with the robbery."
"I didn't think they had. These two dagoes know about the robbery, though!" exclaimed Short and Long, his eyes twinkling.
"I guess they do! I guess they do!" repeated the detective. "And the money stolen from Stresch & Potter was in that soldered can. We got it. We got the men. And the five hundred dollars will be divided between this office and you boys."
"Not me!" cried Chet. "It belongs to Billy. He dived and found the can. And—and I rather think he's paid for his reward by what he went through over there on Cavern Island."
"Perhaps that's so," said the official, chuckling.
"But tell me, sir!" cried Billy, eagerly, "who got through that little window and opened the door for the Italians?"
"Ha! that puzzled us a bit until one of our sharp young men watched Tony putting that monkey of his through its tricks. Then we all saw a great light."
"Great Scott! And so do I see a light!" cried Chet.
"Me, too," grumbled Billy. "But why didn't I guess it before and save myself all that trouble I had?"
"The monkey is the guilty party," said the detective. "The bigger Italian is a famous safe-cracker. He hired Tony Allegretto and his monkey to help him get into the building, and to watch outside. Then the two men quarreled as to the division of the loot after it was hidden. But they are both in jail, now—and the monkey, too. But Mr. Monk will never have a chance to open his master's cell-door again. Now, you'll hear all about this later, boys, and you will both have to testify when the case comes to trial. That's all."
"Huh!" exclaimed Short and Long, as he went away with Chet, "looks like as though! everybody had the laugh on me—eh?"
"How's that?" queried Chet, in some surprise.
"Why, I needn't have made such a Jack of myself as to run away and hide over there on the island. Father's said a-plenty to me about it. He says that any boy who runs away instead of, facing the music makes himself appear guilty right at the start."
"Well—I—don't—know," said his friend, slowly. "Certain sure you worried your folks a whole lot—and worried your friends, too."
"I never thought of that."
"I s'pose not. That detective chasing you up so, was what scared you."
"And you'd have been scared, too. He said he could put me in jail. Now, I'd just as soon be half starved over there on Cavern Island as to be in jail," declared Billy, with conviction.
"Say! One thing you got out of it young fellow," said Chet, suddenly, with a laugh. "And you wouldn't have got that if you hadn't run away."
"Oh! do you really think they'll give me part of the reward?"
"Of course they will. They'll have to. Father will have his lawyer 'tend to that for you, Billy. The police sha'n't cheat you out of your rights."
"Then," cried Billy, delight showing in his face. "I tell you what's going to happen if I get all that money."
"What?" asked Chet, curiously.
"Alice is going back to Central High to finish out her last year. You know, she would have graduated two years ago this June if it hadn't been for her having to stay home to 'tend to the kids. She shall come back. I know she wants to be a teacher, and without her High School certificate she cannot go to Normal."
"Well, you're a good kind of a kid, after all, Billy," said Chet Belding. "Even if you are full of tickle," and he grinned at the small boy.
"Thanks," sniffed Billy Long. "Did you think that nobody but you appreciates a good sister? Lemme tell you, Mother Wit isn't the only girl around these corners that's as good as any boy alive!"
Chet laughed aloud at this. "That's sure a backhand compliment," he said. "Most of the girls of Central High think they're a whole lot better than the boys."
"And gee! Ain't they?" rejoined Billy, with feeling.
They were back at the landing in time to escort the winning girls' crews up to the athletic field and listen to the speeches. Colonel Swayne made the best one of the day, and certainly the one that was most appreciated by the girls of Central High when he announced that the contracts for the building of the new gymnasium were closed and that the building was bound to surpass anything of the kind in the State.
"And I declare you deserve it!" said Colonel Swayne, in conclusion. "You certainly are the finest class of girls I ever did see. You are not like what girls were when I was a boy—I must say that. But, I guess different times breeds different folks. It must be all right for girls now to be athletic and be able to row like boys, and play ball, and all that.
"And I certainly was proud that I lived on the Hill to-day, and that my neighbors' daughters were such strong and healthy young ladies. It has been the greatest day we've seen on Lake Luna for many a year. I'm proud of you all!"
There was a reception that evening at the chapter house of the M. O. R.'s, Central High's very popular secret society, and the girls who had taken part in the aquatic events were feasted and made much of by the members of the society and the teachers and friends invited for the occasion.
It was a very Happy time for the girls of Central High. Even Miss Carrington was in an especially gracious mood; but Aunt Dora, who had come with the twins, refused to speak to "that four-eyed teacher."
Bobby Hargrew was there, although she could never hope to be a member of the M. O. R.'s herself, unless she changed her mischievous ways. "But," as Laura quoted, "can the leopard change his spots?"
"He most certainly can—unless he goes dead lame," cried Bobby, grinning. "You wait till I'm a junior! I'm going to make the M. O. R.'s and be Gee Gee's prize scholar next year."
"Better practice a little now, Bobby," advised Nellie Agnew. "Then it won't come so hard to begin in September."
Dora and Dorothy went home early from the "party" with Aunt Dora. The old lady was still afraid of the night air.
"And I'll come to see you—for a while—right after graduation," Dora said to her aunt, cheerfully. "And then Dorothy will take my place——"
"No. You can both come—come together. I couldn't stand you more than a week at a time, I'm sure," said Aunt Dora, with a sigh. "You girls of the new generation are too much for me; though I must admit that you are pretty nice girls, at that! But your father needs you most of the time—needs you to help him cultivate that seedless watermelon, I expect!
"Girls aren't what they were when I was a girl. You twins don't know how to knit, or to make tatting, or to embroider. It seems a shame—for you'll never have any tidies for your chairs in your house.
"But I must admit that you are well and strong, you two girls. And your ma was that delicate! For those that like 'em I s'pose these athletics are good. I only hope we won't have women pugilists and seven-day bicycle riders!
"When girls like you and your friends race in boats and—ahem!—I hope you won't let any club of girls from the other High Schools take that handsome silver cup away from you, girls," concluded Aunt Dora, with sudden asperity. "That would be a pretty dido, I must say! Don't you let me hear of its passing out of the possession of the girls of Central High."
"We'll do our best, Auntie," replied Dora and Dorothy, their bright eyes dancing at the good old lady's emphasis.