"
Slowly the "Pathfinder" followed the "Scalp-hunter" out into midlake.
"How does your craft go now, Gridley?" hailed the big chief from
Preston.
"She goes like a canoe now," Dick called back joyously.
Then he set his chums to easy paddling. All six of Dick & Co.
felt a thrill of joy at realizing the difference in the canoe's
behavior.
"We'll win, all right," predicted Prescott joyously.
"If we don't, we'll make motions that look like putting up a hard
fight, anyway," Tom answered him.
"I wish I had my foot on the neck of the cur that rigged the drag!"
muttered Darrin vindictively.
"I don't," Dick answered quietly. "The fellow who rigged the
drag probably wasn't the same fellow who planned the scheme."
"I'm going to provoke a fight with a certain party, one of these
days, anyway," threatened Dave, his brow dark with anger.
"Forget it now," Dick urged. "The fellow whose mind is ruled
by an angry passion isn't in the best form for athletic work.
Banish all unpleasant thoughts, all of you fellows."
By degrees the big chief from Gridley warmed up his braves in
the war canoe. He had them going in earnest, at nearly their
best speed, just as the first gun was fired---a pistol in the
hand of the starter on board the judges' boat.
"We'll go over there in our best style," Prescott called. "Try
to give the people on shore something worth looking at---they've
waited long enough to see something! One, two, three, four!
One, two, three, four!"
In absolute precision the Gridley High School boys moved at their
work, their swift, deft, strong strokes sending the birch bark
craft darting over the water in a fashion that brought a cheer
from shore.
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