LITMIR.BIZ

      Run Down

      CHAPTER I

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      RUN DOWN

       "I call it a punk boat, Frank, to go back on us like this!"

      "Well, it does seem a bit rough, Lanky, that's a fact."

      "Rough? Wow! here we are, marooned like a couple of innocent babes on Rattail Island, and two big miles from home! Rough!"

      Lanky Wallace put on one of his most woe-begone looks as he bent over to help drag the boat out of the river, and up on a shelving shore.

      Frank Allen, his chum, laughed as though more amused than distressed.

      "I agree with every word you say, old fellow—all but that innocent babe part. That's drawing it too strong for my blood," he observed; "and now, suppose we turn the boat over to let the water out and see just what is the matter with her."

      ​"And there's the sun gone out of sight. Lucky for us this is a warm July night, if we have to camp on Rattail Island," grumbled Lanky.

      "Oh! shucks! that's all humbug, and you know it" chuckled his companion, as he bent over to examine the bottom of the upturned water craft.

      "Well, if the old boat can't be fixed up, it's either stay here, or swim ashore for us," complained the tall chap, who secretly loved to find cause for growling at times.

      "All right, the swimming is fine! But just wait before you tumble overboard and try it. We'll find a way to mend the boat, I guess," said Frank, seriously.

      "If anybody can do it I reckon you will. There's mighty little that feazes you—excuse me for saying it to your face, though," chuckled Lanky.

      "Now, that's odd!" muttered Frank.

      "What, my casually remarking that I always had faith in my chum to pull through any difficulty? I don't see how you make that out," remarked the other, pretending to be provoked, when in truth he was secretly amused.

      "Why, no, I was referring to something strange about this hole in the bottom of my boat, that's all," answered the other.

      "Hole?" cried Lanky. "Well, according to my notion a hole's only a hole. Perhaps we knocked ​it in on a snag while rowing up this beastly old river; or perhaps I wore the planking through with my heel, trying to keep pace with your pulling."

      "Got a match, Lanky?" asked Frank, ignoring this pleasantry.

      "Sure, a dozen of them, if you say so. Always carry a bunch along," and as he spoke, with cheerful alacrity he brought out several.

      "That's lucky, for I left my safe in my other coat at the boathouse," and Frank struck one of the matches.

      "What about this funny old hole?" demanded Lanky, thrusting his head down.

      "Look at it; don't you see something strange about it?" asked his comrade.

      "Why, yes, it's as round as a ten-cent piece!" exclaimed Lanky.

      "Ever see a snag push through planking like that? The wood's as sound as a dollar all around it, too. Don't it look different from any hole you ever doctored up in a rowboat?"

      "It certainly does. I should say the worm that bored that hole——"

      "Worm!" echoed Frank, with a laugh; "this worm turned, and was at the end of a brace, and known to carpenters as a quarter-inch bit!"

      "Wow! you surprise me, you sure do! If I get your meaning clear you're intimating that some ​fellow bored that hole through your boat on purpose?" said Lanky, with rising indignation.

      "That's just what I believe. I know for a fact that there was no such round opening in that garboard streak three days ago, for I went over every inch of it with a varnish brush, and examined it closely."

      "This is something interesting you're telling me. But why didn't we notice it long ago—why didn't the river slip in early in our trip up over the race

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