The High School Boys' Canoe Club Part 38

There were other discouraging calls, too. Had d.i.c.k been less strong in his faith in d.i.c.k & Co. he might have gone to pieces under the nagging.

Bob Hartwell, glancing smilingly back over one shoulder, saw the Gridley boys working.

"We've got 'em stung, fellows," called the Preston High School big chief to his crew. "Take it easy, but don't let 'em gain anything. We won't try to increase the lead until we're on the last half of the home stretch."

A hundred and fifty yards from the upper buoy d.i.c.k pa.s.sed the word:

"Now, hump a bit. We want to worry 'em as we get to the buoy.

Make it hot for Preston! One, two, three, four!"

Some of that distance was covered. As Preston rounded the buoy Hartwell and his crew came face to face with Gridley, about to round it.

"One, two, three, four!" almost drawled d.i.c.k. He had already pa.s.sed the signal to his own men, not one of whom obeyed his slow count, but on the other hand, Preston High School for the s.p.a.ce of about fifteen seconds, slowed to that crawling count.

"Brace up, you dubs! Paddle!" roared Hartwell. "Never mind that funeral march. Dipperty-dip!"

Preston recovered from its brief trance and shot ahead. But Gridley was already around the buoy and coming fast.

Half way home from the upper buoy found Preston going strongly, two and a half lengths ahead of Gridley High School.

"Oh, you, Prescott, get up and run!" came the dismal, desperate advice from sh.o.r.e.

As he mentally measured the distance, now, to the finis.h.i.+ng line, d.i.c.k Prescott's eyes flashed.

"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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e!"

"More steam!" ordered d.i.c.k. "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:

"d.i.n.ky-bat! Hot sail!"

The new spurt carried Preston High School ahead once more.

CHAPTER XXI

NATURE HAS A DISMAL STREAK

"Come on, Prescott!"

"Or else sink!"

"Don't come back to Gridley!"

The cries from sh.o.r.e, as the Gridley boosters noted the effects of the fine Preston work, were not encouraging.

"Preston High School wins!"

Indeed, it looked as though Hartwell's craft must be the winner.

Shorter and shorter became the distance to the finish line.

True, Big Chief d.i.c.k was bringing his prow close up to the stern of the "Pathfinder" once more, but Preston evidently had a little reserve steam left as yet.

"Go it, Hartwell! Go it! You win! Hurrah!"

Suddenly over the water traveled d.i.c.k Prescott's command:

"Now, then, Gridley! Break your backs!"

This time there was no counting, nor was there any need of any.

From Dave back to d.i.c.k all six bent their full strength and wind to the task of making the "Scalp-hunter" dart over the water.

It was a grueling, killing pace that d.i.c.k had set for his crew, but it did not need to last long. The finish line was close at hand.

Hartwell saw the "Scalp-hunter's prow steal up on a level with the centre of his own canoe.

"Go it, fellows---one last, big spurt!" he yelled.

A sudden yell from sh.o.r.e told another story. The war canoe's nose was now six feet further along than the bow of the Preston canoe.

"Come on, d.i.c.k! Come on! Come on!"

"Speed! The last swift das.h.!.+" yelled d.i.c.k Prescott. "Bend to it!"

Hartwell tried to call to his crew, but could not make himself heard. The yelling from the sh.o.r.e, and from the boats nearby drowned out all other sounds.

The two canoes seemed to be rivaling express trains in their speed.

Then the cheers of one faction drowned the groans of the other.

Gridley High School had shot across the finish line by a length and a half lead over Preston High School.