CHAPTER V
THE STOLEN EIGHT-OARED SHELL
Ting-a-ling!
Frank Allen was just finishing his breakfast at about seven o'clock when the telephone bell rang. He leisurely arose, and stepped into the hall to pick up the receiver, thinking that it might be Lanky, or one of his other chums, Paul Bird or Ralph West.
"Hello! hello!" he called.
"Is this Mr. Allen's house?" came the question.
"Yes, sir, it is," answered Frank, wondering who it could be.
"Is Frank Allen there?" demanded the unknown.
"This is Frank speaking to you. What do you want?" asked the boy, feeling a little thrill of expectancy.
"I understand that you are the coxswain of the Columbia High School Boat Club?"
"Oh! no, only of the eight-oared shell," replied Frank, modestly.
"That's just it. I'm Brierly, the freight agent at
