CHAPTER VIII.

THE RACE.

The day appointed for the race between the Zephyr and the Butterfly had arrived, and the large number of people congregated on the shores of Wood Lake testified to the interest which was felt in the event.  Probably the exciting incident at the bridge, which had been published in the newspaper, imparted a greater degree of interest to the race than it would otherwise have possessed.  It was a beautiful afternoon, mild and pleasant for the season, which favored the attendance of the ladies, and the lake was lined with a row of cheerful faces.

“All aboard!” said Frank, as he dissolved a meeting of the Zephyrs, which he had called in order to impart whatever hints he had been able to obtain from his father and others in regard to their conduct.

Above all, he had counseled them, in case they were beaten, to cherish no hard feelings towards their rivals.  Not a shadow of envy or ill-will was to obscure the harmony of the occasion.  And if they were so fortunate as to win the race they were to wear their honors with humility; and most especially, they were not to utter a word which could create a hard feeling in the minds of their competitors.  Whatever the result, there was to be the same kindness in the heart, and the same gentlemanly deportment in the manners, which had thus far characterized the intercourse of the two clubs.

“All aboard!”

The Zephyrs were more quiet and dignified in their deportment than usual.  There was no loud talk, no jesting; even Fred Harper looked thoughtful and serious.  Each member seemed to feel the responsibility of winning the race resting like a heavy burden upon his shoulders.

The boat was hauled out into the lake, and once more Frank cautioned them to keep cool and obey orders.

“Don’t look at the Butterfly after we get started,” said he.  “You must permit me to keep watch of her.  Keep both eyes on me, and think only of having your stroke perfectly accurate, perfectly in time with the others.  Now, remember, don’t look at the Butterfly; if you do, we shall lose the race.  It would distract your attention and add to your excitement.  If she gets two or three lengths ahead of us, as I think she will on the first mile, don’t mind it.  Pull your best, and leave the rest with me.”

“Ay, ay!” replied several, quietly.

“Do you think we shall win, Frank?” asked Charles, who had put the same question a dozen times before.

“We must think that we shall,” replied Frank, with a smile.  “Here comes the Butterfly.  Now, give her three cheers.  One!”

“Hurrah!”

“Two!”

“Hurrah!”

“Three!”

“Hurrah!”

This compliment was promptly returned by the Butterfly, as she came alongside the Zephyr.

“Quarter of three, Frank,” said Tony.

“Time we were moving then,” replied Frank, as he ordered the oars out, and the boats started for the spot where the Sylph, the judges’ boat, had taken position.