The High School Boys' Canoe Club Part 13

"We won't be in too big a hurry about that," d.i.c.k counseled.

"Let us get the knack of this thing by degrees."

"Whee! When we do get to going fast I'll wager there is a lot of fine old speed in this birch-bark tub!" chuckled Tom Reade.

d.i.c.k now headed the canoe up the river. For half a mile or more they glided along on a nearly straight course.

To say that these Gridley high school boys were happy would be putting it rather mildly. There was exhilaration in every move of this n.o.ble sport. Nor was it at all like work. The canoe seemed to require but very little power to send her skimming over the water.

At last d.i.c.k guided the canoe in an easy, graceful turn, heading down the river once more.

"Now, you can try just a little faster stroke, Dave," d.i.c.k suggested.

"And make it just a bit heavier on the stroke, fellows, but don't imagine that we're going to try any racing speed."

"Hurrah!"

"Zip!"

"Wow!"

It was great sport! Just the small increase in the stroke sent the handsome big war canoe fairly spinning down the river.

"I never dreamed it would be like this!" cried Dave Darrin, in ecstasy. "Fellows, I don't believe there is any fun in the world equal to canoeing in a real canoe."

"It beats all the little cedar contraptions that some folks call canoes!" Tom Reade declared.

"I am almost beginning to think," announced Danny Grin, "that I'd rather go on canoeing than go home for my dinner."

"That idea would last until about half-past twelve," chuckled Reade. "This is glorious fun, all right, but dinner has its place, too. As for me, I want to get my dinner strictly on time."

"Glutton!" taunted Greg Holmes.

"Don't you believe it," Reade retorted. "I want my dinner right on time so that I can get back for a longer afternoon in the canoe."

"Fellows," announced Dave Darrin solemnly, "we've got to form a canoe club."

"Humph!" retorted Greg Holmes. "We don't want to belong to any club where the other fellows have only the fourteen or sixteen foot cedar canoes."

"We don't have to," Dave explained. "We'll limit the membership to those who own war canoes like this one. In other words, we'll be the whole club."

"What's the need of our forming a club?" asked Greg Holmes. "We're as good as being a club already. We're always together in everything, aren't we?"

"Still, it won't do any harm to have a regular club name for the summer," d.i.c.k Prescott suggested.

"What would we call the club?" asked Hazelton.

"Why not call it the Gridley High School Canoe Club?" d.i.c.k demanded.

"Best name possible," Tom agreed.

"Some of the other high school fellows might get sore at us, though,"

Tom hinted. "They might say we had no right to take the high school name."

"We won't take it for ourselves only," d.i.c.k smiled. "We'll keep the club membership open to any set of six fellows who will own and run a war canoe. We'll keep the membership as open as possible to the high school fellows."

"Humph! And then Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and a few others with plenty of cash would get a canoe and insist on coming in and spoiling the club."

"They might," d.i.c.k a.s.sented, "but I don't believe they would.

Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and a few others of their kind in the Gridley High School wouldn't spend five cents to join anything we're in."

Toot! toot! sounded a whistle shrilly behind them.

d.i.c.k turned carefully to glance at the bend above them.

"Steam launch, with an excursion party," he informed the others.

"I think I see Laura Bentley and Belle Meade in the bow waving handkerchiefs at us."

Dan Dalzell turned abruptly around. Harry Hazelton did the same.

"Look out!" cried Greg, as he shifted swiftly to steady the craft.

Just then Tom Reade turned, too. His added weight sent the canoe careening. There was a quick scramble to right the craft.

Flop! The canoe's port rail was under water. She filled and sank, carrying a lot of excited high school boys down at the same time.

CHAPTER VII

"DANNY GRIN" IS SILENT

d.i.c.k Prescott sank into the water not more than two or three feet.

Then his head showed above the surface of the river. He struck out vigorously, looking about him.

"The canoe is done for!" he gasped.

Too-oot! too-oot! too-oot! The steam launch was now speeding to the scene, its whistle screeching at a rate calculated to inform everyone in Gridley of another river disaster.

Up came Greg, then Dave. Tom Reade's head appeared down stream.

Harry Hazelton bobbed up not six feet from d.i.c.k. Hazelton blew out a mouthful of water, then called:

"Everyone up, d.i.c.k?"

"All but Dan."

"What-----"

"I guess he's all right. Danny Grin is a good swimmer, you know."