Gently the canoe was launched in the water. Harry, with a remembrance
of yesterday's events, called Towser, saying sternly:

"Stay right here, boy, and watch. Maybe you'll get the rest of
Rip's shirt to-day."

"And maybe he won't," chuckled Dave. "That's what I call holding
out false hopes to a dog. Rip won't venture within five miles
of here to-day. Yet perhaps Towser will bag some other game for
us."

"Into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!" called Big Chief
Prescott firmly.

Away went the Gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly.

"Our craft is the 'Pathfinder'," called Hartwell, across the water.
"What do you call your boat?"

"The 'Scalp-hunter'," smiled Dick. As a matter of fact he and
his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the
name on the spur of the moment. It made a prompt hit with his
chums.

"You don't believe you can win any race with such paddling as
yours, do you?" Hartwell called derisively.

"We don't show all our fine points to the enemy until the battle
is on," was Prescott's amiable answer. "Even then you won't see