unch, you know."

"I do."

"What is to prevent him from running the launch so that I shall get all
the swash? It would make me lose a quarter minute or more, and perhaps
upset me."

"Jiminey crickets! I believe you are right!" whispered Harry.

"Did they mention the steam launch?"

"They did. Browling said he would go and take a look at her."

"Then that is what the plot is, you may be sure of it. You ought to be
able to stop them, Harry. You are going to be on your uncle's naptha
launch."

"I will! If they get too close to you I'll boathook them and pull them
off!" cried Harry.

"Good for you."

"But beware, Jerry, the plot may not be that after all."

"I'll keep my eyes open," replied the young oarsman.

A minute after this Harry went off.

Then Jerry, having donned his rowing outfit, was surrounded by the other
members of the club. His shell was inspected and found in perfect
condition. It had been guarded carefully, and now the club members did not
dare to let their eyes off of it.

"Bring me my blades, please," said Jerry, and they were at once brought
from the locker.

He began to examine them from end to end. Suddenly he uttered a cry.

"Boys, look here!"

"What's up, Jerry?"

"This one has been strained and cracked. An extra hard pull on it, and it
would give out."

A murmur arose.

"Who did this?"

"Some enemy wants Jerry to lose, sure!"

How the blade had got into that condition was a mystery.

But now was no time to speculate on the affair. A new set of blades must
be procured at once.

Luckily there was a pair belonging to a private party to be had. They were
just the same size and weight.

"I would rather have my own, but I'll make these do, and beat them in
spite of all," said Jerry.

At a given signal six of the boat club boys marched down the float
carrying Jerry's shell, which had been polished and oiled until it shone
like a mirror.

With a faint splash the shell dropped into the water. Then Jerry ran down
and stepped in. His feet were "locked," and the oars were handed over.

[Illustration: THE SINGLE SHELL RACE.]

"Hurrah for Jerry Upton!"

"He's the boy to win!"

"Hurrah for Si Peters!"

"Jerry won't be in it with Si!"

"He will!"

"Never!"

And so the talking and the shouting ran on.

Meanwhile Si Peters had emerged from the landing at a private boathouse
some distance up the lake shore.

He received a hearty shout as he moved slowly over to the s