“What made you do such a silly thing?” asked Jeffrey of Poke as they hurried back to Academy Hall. “You know very well he can paddle faster than you can.” “Ah,” replied Poke gravely, “the race is not always to the swift, Jeff.”
“Well, a canoe race is. You’d better put in all your spare time to-day and to-morrow practising. You’ll have to learn to keep your canoe straight first of all, Poke.”
“I shall take several lessons. I engage you now to impart to me all the knowledge you have, Jeff, of the gentle art of canoedling. If I can get the hang of that twist I’ll be all right.”
But Jeffrey shook his head. “He will beat you to a frazzle,” he said dejectedly. “We won to-day because our canoe was the faster of the two. Gary is a good paddler, and he’s as strong as an ox.”
“Tut, tut, my tearful friend! I have the[246] strength of a team of oxes—I mean oxen. I’m like a horse, Jeff; I don’t know my own strength yet.”
“Well, you’ll know it Saturday forenoon! Of course you can use Mike if you want to, but I think you’d better take one of the shorter canoes; it would be lots easier to handle.”
“I mean to. I mean to take the shortest and lightest one I can find. Can you give me a lesson after football practice this afternoon, Jeff?”
“Yes, but you’ll be too tired, won’t you?”
“I never tire,” replied Poke grandly. “I’ll meet you on the gym steps at five sharp.”
“It will be almost dark by that time,” Jeffrey objected.
“Never mind. We’ll take a lantern, Jeff. Maybe, though, we can start before five. You be there at a quarter to. Or, better still, you go down to the boat-house and get your canoe over and ready, and I will come as soon as I can skip off. How’s that?”
“That’s better. I’ll be all ready for you at four-thirty, and you get there as soon as you can. I’ll put you in the stern this time.”
“All right. I wonder how a little resin[247] would go on my hands. They’re getting full of blisters!”
Poke’s challenge created quite a sensation at dinner time. Gil told him he was a chump, and Jim, without actually saying so, confirmed the judgment. Only Hope refused to see defeat in prospect.
“Of course you can beat him!” she declared cheerfully. “I think Brandon Gary is a perfectly horrid boy!”
“That doesn’t alter the fact that he’s a pretty good chap with the paddle,” said Gil dryly, “or that Poke doesn’t really know one end of a canoe from the other.”
“Nobody does,” replied Poke untroubledly, passing his plate for a second helping of vegetables. “They’re exactly alike!”
“Well, we will all be there to see you finish,” laughed Jim.
“And we’ll all be there to see him black Bull Gary’s shoes,” added Gil.
Poke viewed him sorrowfully. “It pains me deeply, Gil, to find you have so little faith in me. I used to think you were my friend.”
“You can show him all about rowing a canoe, can’t you, Jeff?” asked Hope anxiously. “I[248] should think if he practised hard to-morrow he’d just beat that Gary boy all to bits!”
“There will be very little left of him but bits after the race,” said Poke. “I feel sorry for him, fellows; I actually do.”
The rest hooted.
Poke proved a diligent pupil that afternoon. Jeffrey gave him the stern paddle and Poke labored hard with it. And by the time darkness drove them back to the boat-house Poke had actually mastered the trick of holding the canoe straight after the stroke. The next day, which was Friday, there were two sessions on the river, one in the morning, between Latin and English recitations, and one again after practice in the late afternoon.
“You really did very well,” said Jeffrey as they went back to Sunnywood through the chilly twilight. “If you can do a little bit better to-morrow you may stand a chance of finishing pretty well.”
“I shall win,” replied Poke with deep conviction.
By Friday noon the entire school was in possession of the fact that Gary and Endicott were to have a canoe race and the fellows were discussing[249] the event with much interest and amusement. It was no secret that Poke was a veritable tyro at the paddle, but every one who knew Poke was certain that in some way, by luck or pluck or sheer impudence, he would give his opponent a hard race. To make sure, however, that the world at large should know of the event, Poke himself printed out and posted on the notice board in Academy Hall a highly alluring announcement, which read as follows:
EXTRAORDINARY SPORTING EVENT!
EXCITING CANOE CONTEST BETWEEN TWO
INTREPID MEMBERS OF THIS
SCHOOL!
At eleven o’clock on Saturday morning Mr. Brandon Gary and Mr. Perry Endicott will participate in a Canoe Race to decide the Championship of Crofton Academy. The start will be made at the Old Bridge near Saunder’s Farm and the contest will finish at the Boat-House float. According to the terms of the Contest, the Loser is to black the shoes of the Winner on the steps of Memorial Hall immediately after the conclusion of the Race, the Loser to provide his own Blacking and Brushes and not to skimp the Heels. For further particulars, arrangement of Special Trains, excursion rates, etc., see Daily Papers!
COME ONE!      COME ALL!
[250]
Gary didn’t altogether approve of that notice. It sounded as though Poke meant to make a spectacle of him, although he couldn’t just see how that was to be accomplished. “The silly chump can’t paddle a canoe to save his neck,” he confided to a friend. “So what does he mean by all this nonsense?&............