Just as the "Pathfinder" left the line astern there came from
the Preston craft a sound like the report of a pistol.
One of the Preston braves had snapped his paddle off just above
the blade.
As the "Scalp-hunter" swung about, Dick saw that broken-off blade
floating on the water.
"I'm glad that paddle didn't snap until you had crossed the line,"
Dick panted. "If it had, the real result would have been in doubt."
"Your crew won, Prescott!" called Bob Hart well in a husky voice.
"Congratulations!"
"Thank you," returned Dick. "You're surely a generous enemy."
"Rivals, this afternoon, but enemies never!" protested young Hartwell.
Now a blast from the whistle of the launch recalled the two canoes.
Standing in the bow of the launch, Referee Tyndall announced
so that those on shore might hear plainly:
"Gridley wins by a length and a half!" From the shore came a
wild cheer. There was also a frenzied waving of handkerchiefs
and of parasols. Though the Gridley boosters might be few in
number, they were great in enthusiasm.
As the "Pathfinder" started in for the landing float a crowd made
a rush to meet the canoes. It was not, however, the Preston craft,
that the crowd wanted, for this was a Gridley crowd.
Noting the fact with his keen eyes, Dick gave the word for easy
paddling. Then he swung the war canoe about, heading toward camp.
That proved not at all to the crowd's liking.
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