Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record онлайн

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“The whole course is as clean as a whistle. The only thing to remember is to hug the foot of the cliff when you go round the Point. The lead boat gets the pole, of course,” he laughed.

“I don’t think we’ll have to go over it, Bleek, before we race. We’re ready, now.”

“Then pick out your canoe and get ready.”

There was really no choice in the canoes, and Merry and Clancy selected one at random and got their paddles. Bleeker, Hotchkiss, Lenaway and Orr ducked into a tent and got out of their clothes and into bathing trunks. Frank and his red-headed chum had only to step out of their ordinary garments, for as underclothes they wore gymnasium togs.

Launching their canoe, they got into it and waited for the others to make ready and for the word to start.

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“What’s on to follow this race, Chip?” asked Clancy, while they were waiting.

“A half mile for single paddles,” Merry answered.

“That will give Pink a chance, if there are canoes enough to go round.”