CHAPTER III
THE MISSING TROPHIES
"Boys, you really must go!"
"Oh, can't we stay just a bit longer?"
"No, not another minute. Miss Philock has sent up twice to say thatyou've stayed long enough."
"I think her clock is wrong."
"We haven't been here ten minutes."
"Oh, Sid Henderson! Why, it's over half an hour!" exclaimed MabelHarrison.
"And he's the fellow who didn't use to like the girls!" said Tom, withconviction. "Oh, Rome, how art thou fallen!"
"Cut it out!" growled Sid, under his breath.
The four chums had called on their friends and Phil's sister at FairviewInstitute, and the result can easily be imagined by the foregoingconversation. There had been jolly talk, a telling of the new chancethat had unexpectedly come to Randall, and then the appeal of the girlsthat the boys must go--not because the girls wanted them to--butbecause Miss Philock, the head of the co-educational institution, deemedit necessary.
"But we can come again; can't we?" asked Frank, as they paused at thedoor. Somewhere down the corridor a thin lady, with thin lips, wasnarrowly watching the group of young people.
"Sure we can come again!" declared Phil. "They can't stop me from seeingmy sister."
"Or someone else's," put in Tom, mischievously.
"Tom! Stop it!" cried Madge Tyler. "She'll hear you."
"But we will come!" declared Frank.
"I don't see how we poor girls can prevent you," said Helen Newton, witha mischievous glance of her eyes.
"Young ladies!" came a warning voice from down the corridor.
"Oh, you really must go!" exclaimed Ruth Clinton.
"All right," agreed Tom. "We'll be back soon. When is the next dance?"
"We'll send you cards," replied Madge Tyler. "Good-bye!"
And the boys moved off, with many backward glances, while the girlslingered in the doorway of the reception hall until Miss Philockadvanced to garner them into her charge.
"Young ladies!" she began severely, "if your friends overstay their timeagain I shall not permit them to see you--even if they are _brothers_!"and she looked at Ruth.
"Horrid thing!" murmured Madge. "I'll be glad when vacation comes."
"Are your folks going to camp on Crest Island again?" asked Ruth, namingthe resort in Tonoka Lake.
"I think so. Papa sent a man up to look over the cottage this week, tosee if it needed any repairs. And, girls, if we do go, I want you allto spend several weeks with me!" cried Madge Tyler. "We will have ascrumptious time!"
When the boys got back to Randall they found some mild excitement there.Further word had come from the committee of old graduates that they hadperfected their arrangements in the matter of supplying Randall with allthat was necessary to enter into aquatic sports, and there was a requestthat the students at once hold a meeting, and decide whether or not theywould accept the offer.
Of course it is not necessary to say that the boys did accept. A meetingwas called for that same evening, and it was enthusiastically votedto accept the generous offer, with thanks. It was voted to have aneight-oared crew, as well as a four, while as many singles as could bearranged, with possibly a double. A committee was appointed to securesome second-hand shells for practice, pending the arrival of the newones in the Fall.
Another committee was named to negotiate with Boxer Hall and FairviewInstitute, looking to planning for the races in the Fall.
"If they won't meet us then, we'll have to wait until next Spring," saidFrank Simpson.
"Oh, I guess they're sports enough to give us a race this Fall,"declared Tom. "We'll try, anyhow."
It was now June and the weather, after the long rain, was perfect.Within a few days Boxer Hall and Fairview would meet in their annualwater carnival, swimming as well as boat races, and, as some of theRandall boys had entered in the swimming contests, it was planned tosend a big delegation from that college to the meet.
"We can get a line on their rowing that way," said Sid, and the othersagreed with him.
Meanwhile the flooded river was subsiding, and a few days after theirvisit to the girls, our four friends went out for a row again. In themeanwhile they had secured some books on the subject of sculling, and,as they went down stream, they endeavored to correct their faults.
But, as is always the case when you try to do something opposite to theway you have learned it, whether that way be good or bad, there wastrouble.
"I can't row for a cent the way the book says it ought to be done,"declared Tom.
"Me either," came from Sid.
"And yet that's the right way," said Frank. "I guess we'll get on to itafter a bit. But let's row our old way now, and go down to Crest Island.That will make a good distance, and test our wind. Later we can rowright. Anyhow, if we have a coach he'll show us the ropes. Give way now,everybody!"
They made good speed, and, a little later, were nearing the island, thelargest one of three or four that dotted the lake. Crest Island was thehome of several cottagers in Summer.
"Look! What's that!" cried Tom, as they neared the upper point of thebit of water-surrounded land.
"Looks like a boat wrecked there!" said Phil.
"It is," declared Sid. "It's smashed on the rocks."
"Let's take a look," suggested Frank. "Maybe it's worth saving."
"It's a motor-boat," said Tom, as they came nearer. "But I guess thereisn't much left of it."
"And there's part of the boathouse it was evidently in," came from Phil."Probably it was carried away by the flood--boat, boathouse and all, andsmashed on these rocks."
By this time they had brought their boat to the island shore, and,getting out, they examined the wreck. Truly it had been a bad smash. Thehull itself could never be used again, and it was a question whetherthe engine could, as one of the cylinders was badly cracked. The seatlockers had been broken open, and nothing seemed to remain in them.
"Say, this is the same boat that fellow locked in the boathouse, thetime we were out rowing when we met the Boxer Hall shell!" cried Tom, ashe saw the name on the bow.
"That's right!" agreed Frank. "The very same. Wallops said someboathouses had been carried away. This must have been one of them."
"I wonder who owns this boat?" ventured Sid, but no one answered him.
They looked at the wreck for some little time longer, and then startedback up the river. They had not gone far from the island before they meta man rowing down in a small boat. He had an anxious look on his face ashe hailed them.
"I say, boys," he called, "have you seen anything of a wreckedmotor-boat about here?"
"There's one down on the point of that island," said Tom. "The _Sylph_."
"That's mine!" exclaimed the man. "Is there anything left of her?"
"Not much," replied Frank. "Wait, we'll show you where she is. We werejust looking at her."
"You were?" exclaimed the man, and there was something in the sharpway he said it, and in his tone, that caused the boys to glance at himcuriously.
"Yes, saw it by accident," went on Phil.
"Did you--er--find--that is--Oh, never mind, I can soon tell when I lookat her," the man said, rather confusedly, as he rowed on. The four ladsturned their craft and accompanied him.
"There she is!" cried Frank, pointing out the wrecked craft amid somerocks and bushes. "You can see for yourself there's not much left ofher."
Without a word the man sprang ashore from his boat, while the collegelads kept their craft off the rocks. Rapidly rummaging through thebroken-open lockers, the man, muttering to himself, suddenly stood up.As he did so, Tom said in a low voice:
"That's the same chap who locked the boat up. I wonder what is missing?"
"Did you--excuse me for asking--but did you boys take anything from myboat?" asked the man, in rather hard tones.
"DID YOU BOYS TAKE ANYTHING FROM MY BOAT?" ASKED THE MAN.]
"Take anything? What do you mean?" demanded Sid, sharply.
&n
bsp; "Something is missing from one of the lockers."
"We certainly took nothing from your boat," said Tom, stiffly. "What ismissing?"
"Many things," was the answer. "Among others, a number of trophy cupsbelonging to Boxer Hall College. I had them to repair, polish andengrave, and now they are gone from my boat. Someone must have takenthem!" and he looked at the boys. The four chums felt their angerrising.
The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sports Page 4
