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

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“Not yet, Bleek,” Merry answered, with a laugh. “We want you to get farther ahead first.”

“Much obliged! Now watch us.”

Merry and Clancy had to go farther in getting around the Point than Bleeker and Hotch, for they were forced farther away from the cliff. Inasmuch as the gulch curved at the Point, the rival canoe was offered an advantage, similar to that which comes to a pole horse on the oval of a race track. When once more on a straightaway, Bleeker and Hotch were leading by a full canoe length.

The boys on the bank had not been able to get around the Point, so some of them, including Ballard, crossed to the opposite shore in the other canoes.

“What’s the trouble with you chumps?” shouted Ballard. “Don’t you know the other boat’s ahead? Buckle in—paddle like you used to. Do better than that, Red, or I’ll swim out there and take your place.”

“You got ’em, Bleek!” cried the Gold Hillers frantically. “Keep a-coming!”

“Here’s where the chip off the old block gets a setback! I reckon Merry’s dad was better with a baseball than he was with a paddle!”