At length the day for the picnic dawned.  The day previous had been unpleasant, and there had been considerable anxiety lest the weather should prove unpleasant.  But greatly to the general satisfaction it was bright with sunshine, and the temperature was delightful.

The young people of both societies turned out en masse and looked forward to a good time.

The race had been fixed for half-past three o’clock.  At that hour the superintendent of the Sunday school came forward and said: 

“Owing to the liberality of Mr. Gale, of New York, a boarder at the hotel, a prize of ten dollars has been offered to the best oarsman who may compete for it.  Boats will start from the pier, and the course will be to the opposite bank of the pond and back.  I am sure that this will prove a very attractive feature of our picnic.  Boys who intend to compete will now present themselves.”

The first to come forward was Conrad Carter.  He was dressed in a handsome boating costume, and his manner indicated great confidence.  He looked around for Valentine, but the latter made no motion toward the shore, though his boat was in the pond drawn up with the rest.

“Aren’t you going to row, Valentine?” asked Conrad, in surprise.

“No; I have lent my boat to Andy Grant.”

At the same time Andy, in his ordinary attire, came forward, and stepped into Valentine’s boat.

Conrad arched his brows in surprise.  He had been disappointed to find that Valentine would not row, but he was quite as well pleased at the prospect of beating Andy.

He was rather surprised, however, as he had never heard that Andy could row.

“He must be a fool to think of rowing against me,” he said to himself.

Next came Jimmy Morris, who took his place in one of Serwin’s boats.

Two other boys also appeared in hired boats, one of them being Dennis Carlyle, a friend of John Larkin.

When the boats were in line, a superintendent gave the signal.

Conrad got the first start.  The others kept together, a length or two behind Conrad.  Andy did not appear to be exerting himself, but his strokes showed a smoothness that was lacking in any of the rest.

Mr. Gale, the donor of the prize, who was himself a good rower, took notice of him.

“Who is that boy?” he asked, pointing to Andy.  “I don’t think I have seen him before.”

“It is Andy Grant, the son of Farmer Grant.”

“Why haven’t I seen him before?”

“He has been absent at school—­at Penhurst Academy.”

“He knows how to row.  See how he handles his oars.”

“I didn’t know he was a rower.”

“He is, and a good one.  I shouldn’t be surprised if he wins the race.”

“What, against Conrad Carter?” asked the superintendent, incredulously.

“Yes.  It is easy to see that he has been trained, while Conrad, though he pulls a strong oar, rows like a country amateur.”