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

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It was a good race, a splendid race. No matter which canoe won, the joy of those fleeting moments as they came down the homestretch would be happily remembered by victor and vanquished.

Bleeker and Hotchkiss must have realized how their opponents had been playing the game. They had played it squarely, too, and had calmly watched their rivals lead in the first half of the race. Now, at last, Bleeker and his canoe mate understood that they were facing a crisis, and that only heartbreaking work could save the day.

They labored so well, for a considerable distance, the canoes continued to remain side by side.

“Want us to wait for you, Bleek?” called Clancy.

Bleeker had other uses for his breath, however, than wasting it on replies to the red-headed fellow in the other craft.

“Once more, Clan!” cried Merriwell. “Hug the cliff—we’ve got to!”

Half a dozen sweeps of the paddles and Merry and Clancy were leading. A few more sweeps, and Clancy sent their craft across the bows of their rivals.

They were on the inside now, those Farnham Hall boys, and paddling like fiends. A few moments more and they were under the shadow of the Point.