“Don’t say a word, Jack, about spending money!” came from his cousin Fred, with a wry face. “I’m almost high and dry.”
“It’s lucky they can’t charge us for looking at the aeroplane,” chuckled Andy.
The four Rover boys had left Colby Hall about an hour before for a row down the Rick Rack River to the lake. In a boat behind them were four of their chums, Dick Powell, often called Spouter because of his fondness for making long speeches, Gif Garrison, who was at the head of the school athletics, and Ned Lowe and Dan Soppinger. Each crowd of cadets was in a well-built four-oared boat, and a little while before had indulged in a race which had come to an end when all had stopped rowing to look at the aeroplane which was soaring above their heads.
Boating that year promised to become popular at Colby Hall. Colonel Colby had had the institution fitted out with several new racing shells, and in addition had purchased two motor-boats of which all the cadets were very proud. A man had been hired who knew all about motor-boats, and he was instructing the various cadets in the use of the craft.
“I must say I wish we were out in one of the new motor-boats,” declared Fred, after they had gone on rowing for ten minutes more. “This is rather hot and tiresome work.”
“Never mind, Fred. You need the exercise,” declared Jack. “You’re getting too stout. The first thing you know you’ll be as fat as Fatty Hendry.”
“Gosh! don’t say that, Jack,” returned the young captain quickly. “Why, Fatty is so fat he can hardly get through the dormitory doors!”
“That aviator won’t want to take up Fatty,” remarked Andy. “That is, not unless he went up alone and paid double fare.”
“Hi, you fellows, get a move on!” came a shout from the other rowboat, and Gif Garrison waved a hand towards the Rovers. “I thought you were going to do a little rowing practice. Remember, we have got to get busy if we want to win any of those boat races later on.”