"As ready as we're going to be," said Dick.

"Flying start, or from a stop?"

"Either," Dick nodded.

"Then," proposed Hartwell, "move along until your prow is flush
with ours. When I give the word both crews paddle for all they're
worth. Steer for the two blasted pines at the lower end of the
lake."

"That's good," Dick agreed.

Very gently the war canoe ranged alongside, her bark sides,
well-oiled, glistening in the sunlight. The Preston canoe was not
of bark, but of cedar frame, covered with canvas.

Hartwell evidently wanted a wholly fair race, for he even allowed
the "Scalp-hunter's" prow the lead of a couple of feet before
he shouted:

"Go it!"

Amid a great flashing of paddles the two canoes started. The
Preston High School craft soon obtained a lead of a foot or so,
and held it. Now the contest was a stubborn one. Gridley gained
two feet more.

"You see," called Dick in a low voice, "this is the Gridley way."