Academy, situated a few miles from Putnam Hall. Pornell Academy was an old institution of learning presided over by a Dr. Pornell, who did not much fancy the coming of Captain Putnam to that neighborhood.

“I hope we wax those Pornell fellows good,” said Pepper. “They are a proud lot, and they think we are nothing but the dust of the earth.”

“The races between ourselves will show what we can do,” answered Singleton.

“Are you going to row, Stuffer?”

“To be sure I am.”

“Well, I hope you win something.”

The day was a cool, bracing one, an ideal day for boat racing, and immediately after the midday meal the oarsmen turned out in force and the lake front was alive with craft of various sorts. The races had been talked of for two weeks and several sloops and a steam launch came up from Cedarville bringing parties to view the contests. Some boats also came from across the lake, and flags flapped gayly in the moderate breeze.

The first race was a four-oared affair between the smaller boys, and much to the surprise of everybody it was won by Mumps and a lad named Cathby.

“Hullo, I didn’t know Mumps could row so well,” cried Pepper.

“He comes from a town on the Hudson River, and was brought up around boats,” answered a cadet standing near. “His folks own several sailboats, so I’ve been told.”

“Well, he deserves credit for winning, even if he is a sneak,” declared Jack.

The next race was an eight-oared affair, between crews made of Stuffer, Hogan, Blackmore, and a number of others already mentioned in these pages. This was lost by the crew led by Stuffer.

“Stuffer had been eating too much,” said Pepper. And the always-hungry lad afterwards admitted that this was true.

The third race was a four-oared affair between Jack, Pepper, Andy, and Joe Nelson on one side, and Paxton and several chums on the other. Baxter had been expected to row in this, but fell out at the last moment, stating he was not well. Privately, he was afraid of losing, for he knew Jack and his friends were good oarsmen.

The race was for a mile, and at the discharge of a pistol both crews started in fine shape.

“Go it, Paxton!” was the 

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