ught
up to his brother, and held his place there with seeming ease, though
Andy did not let up in the furious pace he had set.

"Oh, what's the use of killing yourself?" at length the younger lad
fairly panted. "It's--it's farther than I thought."

He began losing distance, but Frank, too, had no liking for the fast
clip, so he, likewise, rowed slower until the two boats were on even
terms, bobbing over the long ground swell that seemed to be getting
heavier rapidly.

From time to time one brother or the other glanced over his shoulder,
not so much to set his course, for they could do that over the stern,
having previously taken their range, but in order to note the aspect of
the fast-gathering clouds which were behind them.

The wind, which had died out shortly after they had started on their
row that morning, now sprang up in fitful gusts, with a rather uncanny,
moaning sound, as if it was testing its strength before venturing to
develop into a howling storm.

"Don't you think it's going to kick up a rumpus?" asked Andy, tired of
keeping quiet.

"Um," spoke Frank again, for his breath was needed to keep up his speed
in the swells.

"There you go again--old silent-face!" and Andy laughed to take the
sting out of his words. "Your tongue will get so tired being still so
long that it won't know how to wiggle when you want it."

Frank smiled, and glanced over his shoulder again. He noted that the
dock, which was their goal, was now a little more than half a mile
distant. He could see several fishing boats and other craft making for
the more sheltered part of the harbor. Frank was calculating the space
yet to be covered, to decide when he should begin the final spurt, for,
though the race was only a friendly one, such as he and his brother
often indulged in, yet he wanted to win it none the less. He decided
that it would not do to hit up the pace to the limit just yet.

"It's a heap sight longer than I thought it was," came from Andy, after
a bit. "What say we call it off?"

"Not on your life!" exclaimed Frank vigorously. "I'm going to finish
whether you do or not--but you have to buy the sodas if I do."

"I will not. I'll finish, too, and I'll beat you."

Once more came a period of silent rowing. Then, whether it was because
he pulled more strongly on one oar than on the other, or because of the
drift of the current, and the effect of the wind, the younger lad
suddenly found himself close to the bo