of the lake-- a haze of acrid smoke hanging over all, as some cylinder
did not properly digest the gasoline vapor and oil fed to it, but sent
it out half consumed-- spray thrown up now and then-- the distant
sound of a band-- eager eyes looking toward the stake buoys-- tense
breathing-- all this went to make up the race in which our outdoor
girls were taking part.

Foot by foot the Gem crept up on the Bug, which was the name of the
foremost boat. Drop by drop Betty fed more gasoline to her striving
motor. The other girls did their duty, if it was only encouragement.
Those in the Bug worked desperately, but it was not to be. The Gem
passed them.

"We're sorry!" called Betty, as she flashed by. The other girls smiled
bravely.

The Gem was now first, but the race was far from won. They were on the
last leg, however, but in the rear, coming on, and overhauling Betty
and her chums as they had just overhauled the others, was the speedy
Eagle. She had been last to get off, but had passed all the others.

"They are after us," spoke Mollie, as she held the wheel a moment
while Betty tucked under her natty yachting cap some wind-tossed locks
of hair.

"But they shan't get us," declared the Little Captain grimly. "We
haven't reached our limit yet."

Once more she gave more gasoline, but the rivals in the rear were
settling down now to win the race for themselves. The Eagle came on