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

78 страница из 92

In the excitement of the moment some ill-considered words were roared across the water. This remark, by a Gold Hill partisan, was probably excusable, in the circumstances, but it struck a spark from Merry’s temper.

It opened up the old, tantalizing question of heredity—the very thing which Merriwell had called a “handicap.” His father could pitch better than he could paddle, could he? If that was the case, then by winning that contest he might prove that what he had learned about canoes had come to him in his own right.

“Good old Merry!” cried one of the Gold Hill crowd, by way of tempering the unwise rooting of his camp-mate. “You’re the stuff! Never say die is your slogan—and that’s all that came down to you from the champion in Bloomfield.”

A thrill raced along Frank’s nerves. At the risk of giving the competitors a still longer lead, he looked shoreward to locate the chap who had called those electrifying words.

“Pink is a peach of a rooter—I don’t think,” grumbled Clancy.

“Never mind, Pink,” laughed Frank, his momentary flash of temper passing, “he’s trying to spur us across the finish line instead of giving us a pull. Ah! There’s the flag, Clan!”