CHAPTER III
THREE CHUMS ON THE RIVER
Down at the boathouse the three boys procured a round-bottomed rowboat, and were soon on the river. Roger took one pair of oars and motioned to Phil to let Dave take the other.
"Let him do the most of the rowing—it will help him to forget his troubles," he whispered, and Phil understood.
It was a beautiful afternoon in the early summer, with just the faintest breeze stirring the trees which lined the river bank on either side. The boys pulled a good stroke, and Roger purposely kept Dave at it, until both were thoroughly warmed up.
"You're improving in your stroke," remarked Dave, as they came to a bend in the watercourse and rested on their oars for a minute. "Perhaps you are training for the boat races."
"Well, I shouldn't mind going into a race," returned the senator's son. "It would be lots of sport, even if I didn't win."
"I am going into some of the field contests this summer," said Phil. "That is, if they come off before I go away."
"When do you expect to start?"
"I don't know yet. It depends upon when one of my father's vessels gets back to San Francisco and ships her cargo."
"I've heard a rumor that the Hall is to be shut up early this summer," said Dave. "The doctor is thinking of building an addition before the fall term begins, and he wants to give the masons and carpenters as much of a show as possible."
"Do you remember that day we were on the river, and Gus Plum ran into us with that gasoline launch?" observed Phil. "My, what a mess we were in!"
"I've had trouble with him ever since I clapped eyes on him," answered Dave.
"Oh, let's talk about something else!" cried Roger. "No matter where we start from, we always end up with Gus Plum. And, by the way, do you notice how thick he is with Nat Poole since Macklin has refused to toady to him?"
"They are almost of a stripe, Roger," answered Dave. "I know Nat Poole thoroughly. The only difference is that Poole is more of a dandy when it comes to dress."
"Poole says he is going in for athletics this summer," said Phil. "I overheard him telling Luke Watson so."
"Is Luke going into training?"
"I don't think so. He loves his banjo and guitar too much."
"Well, I'd love them, too, if I could play as he does," returned Dave.
"Luke told me he had noticed something strange about Shadow," put in Roger. "He asked me if I knew what made Shadow so worried. He said he hadn't heard a funny story out of him for a week, and that's unusual, for Shadow is generally telling about a dozen a day."
"It is possible that he may be fixing for a regular spell of sickness," was Dave's comment. "That's the way some things come on, you know."
The boys resumed their rowing, and Roger put on a burst of speed that made Dave work with a will in order to keep up with him. Then, of a sudden, there came a sharp click and the senator's son tumbled over backwards, splashing the water in every direction.
"Whoop I look out!" yelled Phil. "I don't want any shower-bath! Did you catch a crab, Roger?"
"N-no, I didn't," spluttered the senator's son, when he had regained a sitting position. "There's the trouble," and he pointed to a broken oarlock.
"That's too bad," declared Dave. "Boys, we shall have to have that fixed before we take the boat back to the boathouse—or else we'll have to tell Mr. Dale." The man he mentioned was the first assistant instructor at the Hall.
"Let us row down to Ike Rasmer's boathouse and see if he will sell us an oarlock," suggested Roger. "He ought to have plenty on hand."
"All right," said Phil; "and, as both of you must be tired now, I'll take my turn," and he motioned to Dave to change seats with him, while Roger drew in his remaining oar.
The man whom Roger had mentioned was a boatman who rented out craft of various kinds. His boathouse was about half a mile away, but Phil covered the distance with ease. They found Rasmer out on his little dock, painting a tiny sloop a dark green.
"How do you do, boys?" he called out, pleas antly. "Out for an airing?"
"No, we came down to see if you needed any painters," answered Dave.
"Well, I dunno. What do you think of this job of mine? Ain't it pretty slick?" And Ike Rasmer surveyed his work with evident satisfaction.
"It's all right, Ike," answered Roger. "When you give up boating, take to house-painting, by all means."
"House-painting?" snorted the man. "Not fer me! I ain't goin' to fall off no slippery ladder an' break my neck. I'd rather paint signs. What's that you've got, a broken oarlock?"
"Yes, and I want to know if you'll sell me one to match?"
"Sure I will," answered Ike Rasmer, with a twinkle in his eye. He threw down his paint brush and walked into his boathouse. "Here you be, my boy!" And he held up the parts of a broken oarlock.
"Well—I—I didn't want a broken one," stammered the senator's son.
"Didn't ye say you wanted one to match? Ho, ho! I reckon I cotched you that trip, didn't I?" And the man continued to laugh, and Dave and Phil joined in.
"Ike must have swallowed a whetstone this morning," observed Dave.
"A whetstone?" queried the old boatman.
"Why?"
"You're so awfully sharp."
"Ho, ho! That's one on me, sure enough."
The man slapped Dave on the shoulder. "You Hall boys are the cute ones, ain't ye? Well, if you want a good oarlock, you shall have it," and he brought forth a number, that Roger might make his selection. The senator's son did so, and paid for it out of his pocket-money.
"We ought to pay for part of that," said Dave, always ready to do what was fair.
"Oh, don't bother, Dave; it's only a trifle," answered his chum.
"Say, some of you boys are out pretty late nights," observed Ike Rasmer, as he resumed his painting, and while Roger was adjusting the new oarlock to the gunwale of the Hall boat.
"Out late?" queried Phil.
"Yes, mighty late."
"I haven't been out for a month."
"Nor I," added Dave and Roger.
"I see that young Hamilton not long ago—the fellow that tells stories whenever he can get the chance. And I saw Gus Plum, too."
"Together?" asked Dave, with sudden interest.
"Oh, no. But they were out the same night."
"Late?"
"I should say so—after twelve o'clock."
"What were they doing, Ike?" asked Phil.
"Rowing along the river. Each had a small boat—I guess one from the school. It was bright moonlight, and I saw them quite plainly when they passed Robbin's Point, where I was fishing."
"And each was alone?"
"Yes. Hamilton was right ahead of Plum, and both rowing along at good speed, too. I thought it was mighty strange, and made up my mind I'd ask you boys about it. But, say, I don't want you to get them into trouble," added the old boatman, suddenly. "They are both customers of mine, sometimes."
"I shan't say anything," answered Roger. "But this puzzles me," he continued, turning to his friends.
"Each boy was alone in a boat?" queried Dave.
"Yes."
"And Plum was following Hamilton?"
"He seemed to be. Anyway, his boat was behind the other."
"Was anybody else around?" asked Phil.
"I didn't see a soul, and the river was almost as bright as day."
"Did you see them a second time?" asked Dave.
"No, for I was getting ready to go home when they came along. I don't know where they went, or when they got back."
Ike Rasmer could tell no more than this, and as it was getting late the three boys lost no time in shoving off once more and pulling for the Hall boathouse.
"This stumps me," declared the senator's son. "What do you make of it? Do you think Shadow and Plum are up to something between them?"
"No, I don't," answered Dave, decidedly. "Shadow is not the fellow to train with Gus Plum. He doesn't like the bully any more than we do."
"No wonder Shadow feels sleepy, if he spends his nights on the river," said Phil. "But I can't make out what he is up to, I must confess. If it was some fun, he would surely take somebody with him."
The boys pulled with all their strength, yet when they arrived at the Hall boathouse, they found that they were exactly twelve minutes behind the supper hour.
"No time to wash up," said Roger. "We'll be lucky if we can slip into the dining room without being observed."
With all speed they tied up their craft and ran for the school building. They were just entering the side door when they were brought face to face with Job Haskers, the second assistant teacher and a man who was very dictatorial in his manner.
"Stop!" cried Job Haskers, catching Dave by the shoulder. "What do you mean by coming in at this hour?"
"We were out on the river and broke an oarlock, Mr. Haskers," replied Dave.
"Humph! an old excuse."
"It is the truth, sir," and Dave's face flushed.
"I broke the oarlock," said Roger. "We got back as soon as we could—as soon as we got a new lock at Ike Rasmer's boathouse."
"We cannot allow pupils to come in half an hour late," went on Job Haskers, loftily. "Directly after supper, report to me in classroom 7," and he passed on.
"We are in for it now," grumbled Phil. "It's a shame! It wasn't our fault that the oarlock broke."
"Wonder what he will make us do?" came from the senator's son.
"Something not very pleasant," answered Dave. He had encountered the second assistant many times before and knew the harsh instructor well.
They were soon in their seats at the table. Some of the other students looked at them inquiringly, but nothing was said. Not far from Dave sat Gus Plum and Nat Poole, and both favored the poor boy with a scowl, to which Dave paid no attention.
The meal finished, Dave, Phil, and the senator's son brushed up a bit, and then hurried to classroom 7, located in an angle of the building. They were soon joined by Job Haskers.
"The three of you may remain here and each write the word 'Oarlock' two hundred times," said the second assistant. "As soon as all of you have finished, ring the bell, and I will come and inspect the work. It must be neatly done, or I shall make you do it over again." And then he left them to themselves, going out and closing the door tightly after him.