“I’ll race you.”

“Done! Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Then off we go.”

Quicker than it can be related, four oars fell into the water and four sturdy arms bent to the task of sending two beautiful single-shell craft skimming over the smooth surface of the lake.

It was a spirited scene, and attracted not a little attention, for both of the contestants were well known.

“Go it, Jerry! You can beat him if you try!”

“Don’t let him get ahead, Harry. Keep closer to the shore!”

“How far is the race to be?”

“Up to the big pine tree and back.”

“That’s a full mile and more. I’ll bet on Jerry Upton.”

“And I’ll bet on Harry Parker. He has more skill than Jerry.”

“But Jerry has the muscle.”

“There they go, side by side!”

And thus the talking and shouting went on along the lake front. Most of the boys present were members of the Lakeview Boat Club, but there were others of the town there, too, as enthusiastic as the rest.

It was a clear, warm day in June. The summer holidays at the various institutes of learning in the vicinity had just begun, so many of the lads had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.

There were not a few craft out besides the two shells to which we have drawn attention. But they drew out of the way to give the racers a free field.

On and on went Jerry and Harry until the big pine was reached. Then came the turn, and they started on the home stretch side by side, neither one foot ahead of the other.

“It’s going to be a tie race.”

“Pull, Harry! Let yourself out!”

“Show him what you can do, Jerry!”

Encouraged by the shouts of their friends, both boys increase their speed. But the increase on both sides was equal, and still the boats kept bow and bow as they neared the boathouse.

“It’s going to be a tie, sure enough.”

“Spurt a bit, Jerry!”

“Go it for all you’re worth, Harry!”

Again the two contestants put forth additional muscle, each to out-distance his opponent, and again the two row-boats leaped forward, still side by side.

As old Jack Broxton, the keeper of the boathouse, said afterward: “It would have taken twelve judges, sitting twelve days, to have told which had the advantage.”

The finishing point was now less than five hundred feet distant, and in a few seconds more the race would be over. The crowd began to stop shouting, almost breathless with pent-up interest. It was surely the prettiest race that had ever been rowed on Otasco Lake.

Splash!

The splash was followed by a splutter, and then a frantic cry for help. A portion of the high float in front of the boathouse had unexpectedly given way, and a short, stocky, reddish-black youth had gone floundering over board.

“Blumpo Brown has gone under.”

“It serves him right for standing away out on the edge of the float.”

“Help! Help!” cried the youth in the water.

“Hold on, Harry! Jerry, don’t run into me!”

Alarmed by the cries, the two racers turned around, easing up on their oars as they did so. A single glance showed them that the unfortunate one was directly in their path.

“We must stop!” cried Jerry Upton to his friend.

“All right; call it off,” responded Harry Parker. “It was a tie.”

As he finished, both shells drew up, one on either side of Blumpo Brown. Each of the rowers offered the struggling youth a helping hand.

Blumpo was soon clinging to Jerry’s shell. He was dripping from head to foot, and not being at all a handsomely-formed or good-looking youth, he presented a most comical appearance.

“It’s too bad I spoiled the race,” mumbled Blumpo. “But that’s just me—always putting my foot into it.”

“I guess you put more than your foot into it this time,” was Harry’s good-natured comment, as he ran close up alongside.

“Where shall I land you, Blumpo?” questioned Jerry Upton.

“Anywhere but near the boathouse,” returned Blumpo, with a shiver that was not brought on entirely by his involuntary bath. “If you land me there the fellows won’t give me a chance to get out of sight.”

“I’ll take you up the lake shore if you wish,” said Jerry. “I intended to go up anyway in a row-boat.”

“All right, Jerry, do that and I’ll be much obliged to you,” returned Blumpo Brown.

“You are going along, aren’t you, Harry?” continued Jerry, turning to his late rival.

“Yes, I want to stop at Mrs. Fleming’s cottage,” replied Harry Parker.

In a moment more Harry had turned his shell over to old Jack Broxton and had leaped into a row-boat.

“Ain’t you fellows going to try it over again?” asked several on the shore, anxiously.

“Not now,” returned Jerry. Then he went on to Harry, in a lower tone: “I didn’t expect to make a public exhibition of our little trial at speed, did you?”

“No; not at all. It was a tie, and let it remain so.”

Jerry soon left his shell; and then four oars soon took the row-boat far away from the vicinity of the shore; and while the three boys are on their way up the lake, let us learn a little more concerning them, especially as they are to form the all-important characters of this tale of midsummer adventures.

Jerry Upton was the only son of a well-to-do farmer, whose farm of one hundred acres lay just beyond the outskirts of Lakeview, and close to the lake shore. Jerry was a scholar at the Lakeview Academy, and did but little on the farm, although among the pupils he was often designated as Cornfield.

Harry Parker was the oldest boy in the Parker family, which numbered two boys and four girls. Harry’s father was a shoe manufacturer, whose large factory was situated in Lakeview, and at which nearly a fourth of the working population of the town found employment.

It had been a singular incident which had brought the two boys together and made them firm friends. Both had been out skating on the lake the winter before, when Harry had lost his skate and gone down headlong directly in the track of a large ice-boat, which was coming on with the speed of a breeze that was almost a hurricane.

To the onlookers it seemed certain that Harry must be struck and killed by the sharp prow of the somewhat clumsy craft. But in that time of extreme peril Jerry had whipped up like a flash on his skates, caught Harry by the collar, and literally flung himself and the boy, who was then almost a stranger to him, out of harm’s way.

This gallant deed of courage had been warmly applauded by those who saw it. It also came to Mr. Parker’s ears, and from that time on the rich shoe manufacturer took an interest in the farmer boy. He persuaded Mr. Upton to allow Jerry to attend the academy, and promised that the boy should have a good position in the office of the factory, should he wish it, when his school days were over.

Harry was already a pupil at the academy, and it was here that the two boys became warm friends. It was nothing to Harry that Jerry was a farmer’s boy and that he was sometimes called Cornfield. He knew and appreciated Jerry for his true worth.

And now what of Blumpo Brown, you ask? There is little to tell at this point of our story concerning that semi-colored individual. He was alone in the world, and had lived in Lakeview some ten years. Previous to that time his history was a mystery. Where he had come from no one knew, and if the truth was to be made known, no one but Blumpo himself cared. He was a very peculiar youth, often given to making the most ridiculous remarks, and many persons around Lakeview fancied he had considerable Indian blood in him. He lived in half a dozen places, according to the condition of his finances, and picked up his precarious existence by working for anyone who would employ him. He might have had a steady situation more than once, but it was not in Blumpo’s composition to stick at one thing for any great length of time. We will learn much more concerning him as our story proceeds.