The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview. Stratemeyer Edward
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child! my child!” she shrieked. “Save my Cora!”
Jerry waited to hear no more. At that moment the head of the little girl appeared directly by the horse’s side, and he made a clever dive from the row-boat and came up close to the child.
The girl was so bewildered that she simply beat the water in a helpless fashion, and this frightened the horse still more.
Swimming up behind the little one, Jerry caught her under the arms. It was a perilous thing to do, for Jerry was in great danger of having his brains dashed out by one of the horse’s hoofs.
“Good for you, Jerry!” shouted Harry.
“Look out for the hoss!” shouted the man. “He’ll kick you if he can!”
As rapidly as he could, Jerry swam out of the mad animal’s reach. It was difficult with the struggling girl in his arms, but at last he accomplished it, and willing hands helped him to the dock.
“My Cora! my Cora! is she dead?” cried Mrs. Fleming.
“No, she is more frightened than hurt,” returned Jerry. “Let us take her to the house.”
But before he could go a step, Mrs. Fleming clasped her girl in her arms and led the way.
Anxious to be of assistance, Jerry followed the lady, while Harry, Blumpo, and the hired man tried to rescue the horse, who was very valuable despite his nervousness.
A noose was made at the end of a rope, and this was thrown over the animal’s neck. Then the horse got one foot through the noose, and in this fashion they towed him to a spot where it was easy for him to wade out without assistance.
The hired man was very much put out, for it was his fault that the horse had run away. He led the animal around to the barn and gave him a good rubbing down.
Harry started for the house and met Jerry coming out.
“How is Cora?”
“She’s all right. Come on,” and Jerry brushed on toward the row-boat.
“Why, what’s your hurry, Jerry?”
The young oarsman blushed.
“Oh, I hate to stand around and receive thanks,” he said. “Mrs. Fleming wants to make a first-class hero of me and I – ”
“And that’s just what you are,” cried Harry.
“Indeed he is,” added Blumpo.
“Nonsense!” Jerry brushed them to one side.
“Come on!” and he made a run for the row-boat, and the others were compelled to follow.
“But your clothing is all wet,” insisted Harry, when they were seated in the craft.
“So is Blumpo’s,” returned Jerry.
“I’se most dry, the sun is that warm,” remarked the homeless youth.
“I don’t mind the wetting a bit,” said Jerry. “Rowing will keep me warm and the sun will dry me off quick enough.”
“You’re a regular water dog, anyway,” laughed Harry. He could not help but admire Jerry’s modesty in running away from Mrs. Fleming as soon as it was ascertained that little Cora was all right.
On and on up the lake the boys went. Inside of half an hour they came to a sheltered nook on one of the numerous islands.
“I move we take a swim,” said Harry.
“Second de emotion,” said Blumpo, and before Jerry could say a word the homeless youth was running about as if in the savage wilds.
It did not take Jerry and Harry long to disrobe. The plunge into the water was very pleasant, and they remained in bathing until Jerry’s clothing, spread out on the top of a number of bushes, was thoroughly dry.
In the meanwhile Jerry and Harry raced to another island and back. Jerry came out first, with Harry four yards behind.
The swim over, they dressed, and, after picking several handfuls of berries, which grew on the island in profusion, they once more embarked in the row-boat.
“Time to get back, boys,” said Jerry. “I promised to be home before dark.”
“So did I,” said Harry, “and we have several miles to go.”
“It don’t make no difference to me when I git back,” remarked Blumpo, dolefully.
“Don’t worry, Blumpo. Think of the good time we are going to have when we go camping,” said Jerry.
“And I must ask father for a regular situation for you when we come back from our outing,” added Harry.
“Will you?” and the homeless boy’s face brightened.
The wind had been increasing steadily, and now it blew so strongly that the whitecaps were to be seen in every direction.
“We’re going to have no easy time getting back,” said Jerry, with an anxious look on his manly face. “Maybe we may be caught in a hurricane.”
“It’s hot enough,” returned Harry. “Such oppressive heat generally means something.”
A mile was covered, and then the wind began to send the flying spray in every direction and filled the row-boat’s bottom with water.
“Wet again!” laughed Jerry, grimly. “Never mind.”
“Blumpo, you had better bail out the boat,” said Harry. He was as wet as the rest, but did not grumble.
While the homeless youth bailed out the water with a dipper they had brought along, Jerry and Harry pulled at the oars with all their remaining strength. Another mile was passed. But now it was blowing a regular hurricane and no mistake.
“We’ll go to the bottom, suah!” groaned Blumpo dismally.
“Not much!” shouted Jerry. “Keep on bailing.”
“Look! look!” yelled Harry at that moment, and pointed over to the centre of the lake.
There, beating up in the teeth of the wind in the most hap-hazard manner, was the Cutwater. Evidently Clarence Conant was nearly paralyzed with fear, for he had almost lost control of the craft.
“Those ladies on board are worse off than we,” went on Harry.
“That’s so,” replied Jerry.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth when there came an extra puff of wind. It sent the Cutwater almost over on her side, and threw a monstrous wave into the row-boat.
The smaller craft could not stand the wind and waves, and with a lurch, she sank down and went over, dumping all three of the youths into the angry lake.
CHAPTER IV.
SAVING THE SLOOP
It was no pleasant position to be in. The three lads had been cast so suddenly into the angry waters that for the moment they could not comprehend the situation.
Then Blumpo let out a yell of terror.
“Save me! De boat has gone down!”
He was wrong, however, for a second later the row-boat bobbed up, less than four yards off.
“This way!” shouted Harry to his companions, but the wind fairly drowned his voice. He swam toward the upturned craft, and Blumpo and Jerry were not slow in following it.
Hardly had they reached it when a new peril confronted them. The Cutwater was bearing directly down upon them. With every sail set, she was in the very act of cutting them to pieces!
“Look! look!” yelled Harry. “We are doomed!”
“My gracious!” moaned Blumpo.
On and on came the sloop, with gigantic bounds over the whitecaps. Clarence Conant seemed utterly powerless to stay her course, or steer her to the right or left.
The young ladies on board with him huddled in a heap near the