“How far?” asked Frank.
“Only about half a mile.”
“All right, I’ll go with you.”
And the two set off, never dreaming of the tremendous surprise in store for them.
CHAPTER XI—A TRAITOR AND A SPY
“Steady! steady!” roared a commanding voice. “Stroke, keep at it, and pick it up quicker on the beginning.”
The eight oarsmen in the boat were doing their level best, their oars flashing in the sunlight as they came dripping from the water to disappear again, sending the light craft flying along.
On the shore, which at this point was a high bank, the coach watched them as they skimmed past, and shouted his commands.
“Drive your legs at it, four! What are you in the boat for? Carry it through all the way. Up, now! Long swing! Great Scott! don’t think you’ve got to break your neck to recover because you pull hard on the stroke.”
He was a young fellow with a beardless face that plainly indicated his firm conviction that what he did not know was not worth finding out. His lips were red and full, and his entire bearing plainly betokened unlimited self-conceit.