other contest than now. The paddles flew, their wet blades gleaming
in the air, only to disappear under the water again. Each recovery
was swift, prompt rhythmic!

But Hartwell's crew was also showing the stuff of which it was
made.

"Stop paddling---back water!" shouted Hartwell finally.

The "Pathfinder" lay on the water, motionless, only two yards
from the shore on which stood the blasted pines.

At that same instant the Gridley High School "Scalp-hunter" was
a trifle more than seven lengths astern.

"That was good and warming," smiled Big Chief Dick, as the second
canoe came up.

"Yah, yah, yah!" retorted the Preston High School boys, betraying
their delight in derisive grins.

"Where is that wonderful, all-conquering way you were telling
us about?" chaffed Hartwell.

"You'll find out when we race," smiled Prescott calmly.

"When we race?" repeated Preston's big chief. "Didn't we race
just now? Or do you consider that it wasn't a race just because
you weren't in it?"