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Updated: June 7, 2025
The ARROW was let down into the water again and tied outside the boathouse ready for a quick start. The dinner Mrs. Baggert provided was so good that Tom lingered over it longer than he meant to, and he asked for a second apple dumpling with hard sauce on.
The boathouse was a little building on the beach at the foot of the bluff below the house. It was a favorite resort of mine and I spent many hours there. My eighteen foot motor launch, the Comfort, the one expensive luxury I allowed myself and which I had bought second-hand two years before, was jacked up in the middle of the floor.
The weary months of hard work are forgotten, and you are quite as apt to think of your first velocipede, or of the pie that is awaiting you in the boathouse, as of victory and defeat. And a yacht race, with a pair of rivals on your beam, is very much the same. As I sat with my feet dangling over the washboard, I reflected, once or twice, that we were engaged in a race.
While those approaching the boathouse door were still more than a score of feet away there came a startling interruption. Bang! sounded inside. The door of the building strained an instant, but did not give way. "That's our old friend, Amos bang-bang, to a dot," muttered Tom dryly, as the advancing party of men and boys halted.
They sat in one of the boats that drifted beside the boathouse float, Carson dabbling his fingers in the water. "It is a lazy spot," he murmured. "I should think Merriwell's boys would get the tired feeling." "Oh, some of them do," smiled Hodge; "but Frank won't let them loll around long enough for it to become chronic. He keeps them up and doing."
One of the seniors, a refined young man named Allan Charter, took the crowd through the library and the laboratory and also down to the gymnasium and the boathouse. "We haven't any boat races, for we have no other college to race against," said the senior. "The students sometimes get up contests between themselves, though.
Sylvia caught her lip between her teeth, and her heart swelled. The next morning nature, as always after a gloomy season, seemed trying to cause forgetfulness of its sulks and tears by bringing the whole battery of its charms to bear upon sea and land. After breakfast Thinkright produced a key from his pocket. "There, my girl," he said, "is the key to the boathouse. I know you can scarcely wait."
"Well, it seems to me you two are pretty nervy," said Harold testily. "What are you doing down around here anyway?" "We were going down to Brown's boathouse to see Hugh's canoe," Bob explained. "We thought we'd take the short cut over the bridge." "And stand a good chance of getting shot," said Harold.
I whimpered a pious but inconsistent ejaculation. Raffles sat back on his heels, and meditatively wiped a smear of his own blood from the polished floor. "You'd better leave him to me," he said, looking and getting up with sudden decision. "But what am I to do?" "Go down to the boathouse and wait in the boat." "Where is the boathouse?"
"It's as much fun to fix up the cabin as it is to camp out," said Shep, and the others agreed with him. On Monday afternoon the boys got their things together and stored them in an old boathouse on the river front. They had looked to their skates and each pair had been sharpened and put in first class condition. "We may use our skates as much as the snowshoes," said Whopper.
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