Frank soon had connection with one of the high school lads at the club. When he put the question with regard to the boat he was horrified to hear that the craft was not there, and that no one knew anything about it.
There seemed but one solution of the mystery. Some dark work had been going on while the honest town people slept. The precious new shell had been stolen by some mean schemers, who did not want Columbia High School to win the boat race.
"I'm coming right down, Buster; wait for me," Frank said, as he rang off.
Snatching up his cap he bolted from the house, and ran at top sped over to the railroad station.
"The boat isn't at the clubhouse, Mr. Brierly," he said, as he hastened into the office of the freight agent, and found the latter at the 'phone excitedly trying to get connection once again with the Allen house.
"Then what could have happened to it?" asked the other, looking troubled; for the company would be held responsible for the non-delivery of the shell, and its mysterious vanishing might reflect somewhat on his wisdom in leaving it exposed on the platform over night.
"It's a trick, that's all," declared Frank. "There's a lot of fellows in this town who hate to see the rest of us do anything to win in baseball or other sports;
