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

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“Don’t fret about Pink,” called that worthy from the bank, happening to overhear the talk between his chums. “I’m going to run along the bank and root for the heroes of Farnham Hall. I invented canoes, and naturally I’m a better paddler than Red, but I can put more heart into you from the shore than I could with a paddle.”

Clancy slapped the water with his paddle and threw a small shower over Ballard.

“You invented the long bow, too, you old chump,” laughed Clancy, “and you’re a champion hand at pulling it. Come on in, the water’s fine.”

Ballard had leaped out of the way of the shower, and was sputtering about his wet clothes.

“You’ll get all you want of the water if I’m any prophet, you red-headed false alarm!” he shouted. “For half a cent I’d wade out there and swamp you.”

“Somebody got a nickel?” sang out Clancy. “Throw it to Pink and let him keep the change.”

At just this point, the other canoes glided out into the water, taking up their positions on each side of Merry and Clancy.

“All ready?” cried a fellow named Dart, who was acting as starter, as the canoes lined up.