“Well!” exclaimed George. “I never saw anything to beat that!”

“Who won?” demanded Fred.

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the judge.”

The boys turned and looked at Mr. Maxwell who was seated in the other canoe with Franklin and Herbert. His face was turned towards the two canoes which had just flashed across the finish line. He wore a puzzled expression and was evidently at a loss what to say.

“Who won?” called George.

Mr. Maxwell turned and looked at the speaker sorrowfully. “No one,” he said.

“No one,” exclaimed George. “Why, how can that be?”

“Couldn’t it be a tie?” asked Fred quietly.

“Why, yes, of course. I hadn’t planned for a tie though.”

“I declare the race a tie,” announced the judge solemnly. “If either boat was ahead of the other, I’m sure I didn’t see it, and I wouldn’t dare call it anything else.”

The racers had turned around and were now making their way slowly back. All four of the boys were well nigh exhausted, but they were smiling nevertheless.

“Who won?” called Thomas, for they had not heard the judge’s verdict.

“It was a tie,” said George.

“A tie?” exclaimed Grant, his face falling. “That’s bad.”

“Why is it?” demanded George.

“Because we needed the points.”

“By the way,” exclaimed Hugh, “how do we award the points?”

“Split them, don’t we?” said Fred readily, appealing to Mr. Maxwell.

“Each team gets one and a half. Two for first and one for second makes a total of three, and a half of three is one and a half.”

“Whew!” whistled George. “You certainly are quick at figures.”

A general laugh went up at Fred’s expense but he did not seem to mind.

“That’s the way it’s figured out anyway,” said Mr. Maxwell. “That makes the total points three and a half for the red team and two and a half for the blue.”

“Still one point behind,” exclaimed Grant. “We’ll have to get that back somehow.”

“Well,” said Thomas, “the swimming race comes next and three places count in that. Three for first, two for second, and one for third; you’ll have a fine chance to catch us there.”

“I was just thinking,” interrupted Mr. Maxwell, “that it might be a good idea to reverse the order of these last two events. You boys are pretty well tired out after that canoe race and to swim a hundred and seventy-five yards now would be quite a severe strain. What do you say to our having the sailing race next?”

“Why,” said Grant slowly, “I don’t see any objection to that. What do the rest of you fellows think about it?”

“How about dinner?” exclaimed George. “We could never finish by the time we had planned to eat and I must say I’m hungry right now.”

“So am I,” said Hugh so earnestly that everyone laughed.

“Why don’t we have dinner right now then?” suggested Mr. Maxwell. “As soon as we are through we can start the sailing race.”

“That’s a good scheme,” exclaimed Grant. “Let’s do that.”

“And have the swimming race after the sailing?” queried Thomas.

“That’s right,” said Grant. “The water’s more apt to be quiet later in the day than it is now and that will make it better for swimming.”

“Very true,” agreed Mr. Maxwell. “The wind often seems to go down with the sun and if the wind goes down the water becomes still.”

Without further delay they made their way ashore and preparations for dinner were at once started. Grant usually did all the cooking, but to-day he had an abundance of help. Wood was quickly gathered and a blazing fire was soon under way.

Two of the boys were set to work peeling potatoes which were to be fried in the pan. Others made ready the dishes and collected the knives and forks. Mr. Maxwell had several good sized bass he had caught before breakfast, and, what was even better, he had brought along a dozen and a half ears of green corn, two for everyone present. Was it any wonder that the young campers’ eyes sparkled with anticipation as they saw the dinner being prepared?

Their appetites were keen as only those in the woods can understand. The fragrant odor of sizzling bacon and roasting corn coming to their nostrils only served to increase their eagerness.

“Isn’t this great?” cried George enthusiastically, when at last dinner was announced as ready and the pleasant task of disposing of it had begun. “If anything can beat this, I’d like to know what it is.”

“There is nothing that can tie it even,” laughed Mr. Maxwell, who seemed to be enjoying himself as much as any of the boys.

“I only hope Pop won’t eat so much, he’ll sink the Balsam,” said Fred doubtfully. “We have plenty of ballast aboard as it is.”

“You ‘tend to your own dinner,” advised George very promptly. “I’m too busy to waste any time talking to you now.”

At last the meal was over, and every one had had sufficient to eat.

“All ready to start the race?” inquired Mr. Maxwell.

“Oh,” groaned Franklin, “I don’t feel as if I could move. I’d rather crawl off somewhere and go to sleep. I guess I ate too much.”

“I know I did,” laughed John.

“We’d better start though, I guess,” urged Grant. “The course is long and while there’s a good breeze now you can’t tell how long it will last.”

“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Maxwell. “You’d better get ready.”

The boys at once made their way to their respective boats and made the final preparations for the race. Both boats had had their sails up all the morning in order to dry them out thoroughly and there was very little left to be done.

Mr. Maxwell sat in a canoe near at hand and watched the boys.

“Remember,” he said, “twice around the course. The first lap you go one way and the second in the opposite. Be very careful to round every stake. The start is from the same spot as the canoe race and the finish is there, too. I will fire this pistol as a warning gun, and three minutes later I will fire it again for the start. Be sure not to cross the starting line before I give the second signal.”

“All right,” said Grant. “We’re all ready.”

“So are we,” echoed Thomas from the Spruce.

“Very well then,” said Mr. Maxwell. “Get your anchors up and move out by the starting line.”

This was soon done and a few moments later the two catboats were jockeying back and forth off the entrance to the little harbor. Fred was at the tiller of the Balsam and Hugh guided the Spruce.

The sharp crack of the pistol announced that the race was about to start. Grant had been waiting, watch in hand, for this signal.

“Take a short tack out and back, Fred,” he urged. “I’ll watch the time.”

“Hard-a-lea!” called Fred as he put the tiller over and the Balsam came around into the wind. His crew quickly shifted sides, the sheet was hauled taut, and the trim little boat scudded swiftly along before the fresh breeze.

“Better go back now,” advised Grant when they had covered fifteen or twenty yards. He scarcely lifted his eyes from his watch which he still held in his right hand. “We’ve got a minute and a half more.”

Once more the Balsam came about and began to retrace its short course towards the starting line. The Spruce was just off its starboard side, with bow pointing directly into the wind and consequently was almost stationary.

“We’ll cross the line too soon,” exclaimed John nervously. “We’ll have to come back if we do.”

“Leave that to me,” said Grant confidently, his eyes still on the second-hand of his watch. “I’ll look out for that.”

“We’re not a dozen feet from the line now though,” cried John in alarm. “You’d better come around, Fred.”

“Don’t you do it,” exclaimed Grant sharply.

Closer and closer to the line they came. John, and for that matter Fred and George also were intensely nervous for fear they should cross the line before the signal. Grant, however, seemed confident that they were on the safe side.

“We’ll have to turn around and start all—” began John, when Grant suddenly interrupted him.

“Now,” he cried, and barely the fraction of a second behind his voice came the sound of the starting gun. Almost simultaneously the Balsam crossed the line; away to a splendid start and with a good lead of at least fifteen or twenty feet on the Spruce.