"Now, your reserve power, fellows!" he called in a low, tense
voice. "Make every stroke count! Full muscle! Never mind your
backs! One, two, three, four!"

A splendid showing Gridley made. Soon the lead of the rivals
was less than two lengths.

"Steam-ho!" called Hartwell. "Hot sail!"

Preston's paddles flashed in the sunlight in unison, in the best,
swiftest stroke they had yet shown. Over on shore the Preston
boosters let their lungs loose in cheering yells.

"Wait for a tugboat, Prescott!"

"You're up against the real thing, Gridley!"

"Come on in, Hartwell! The other canoe is tied to the shore!"

"More steam!" ordered Dick. "More steam! Your best, prize winning
stroke now."

Again Hartwell glanced backward. Now the prow of the war canoe
was less than half a length from the stern of the Preston craft.

Up and up it came. Hartwell, in a burst of energy, shouted his
prize signal:

"Dinky-bat! Hot sail!"