A moment later Grant and George came to the surface puffing and shaking the water from their eyes and hair. Both boys were laughing.

“Nice work,” said Grant to their two opponents, who sat in their canoe nearby.

“We were lucky,” protested Thomas.

“Lucky, nothing,” exclaimed Grant. “You knew more about the game than we did and you deserved to win.”

The canoe belonging to the defeated boys floated close at hand, bottom side up. The pole and the paddle were a short distance away. These were soon rescued and the canoe being righted, the contestants made their way to shore. John and Fred were the first to congratulate the winners.

“We’ll have to win this canoe race,” exclaimed Fred. “You fellows have two points to our one as it is now, and we can’t afford to let you get twice as many again this time.”

“We’re going to do our best to get twice as many though, you may be sure of that,” laughed Hugh McNeale. “We want that big flag.”

“If you win it, you’ll certainly be welcome to it,” exclaimed John. “We want it ourselves though, I can tell you.”

The best of feeling existed between the two camps, but this fact did not serve to lessen the competition and rivalry. Good sportsmanship adds zest to every game.

“Where are the first pairs for this canoe race?” cried Mr. Maxwell. “We mustn’t let these events lag, you know.”

“We’ll be ready in a minute,” replied Grant. “We want to get all our wind back and remove all the water from this canoe first.”

“That’s right,” said Herbert Halsey. “You fellows take your time.”

The suggestion of the blue team that the next event be made a relay race around the island, had met with an enthusiastic response from their rivals. Two teams from each camp were to compete and each team was to paddle once around. The first pairs consisted of George and Fred, from the blue team and opposed to them were Herbert Halsey and Franklin Dunbar, from the red. Finishing the race were Grant and John, against Hugh McNeale and Thomas Adams. Each camp had selected its strong team to paddle last, hoping to win the race by a powerful finish.

“I guess we’re all ready now,” said Grant, when a few moments had elapsed. “We’ll go ahead any time you say.”

“All right,” said Mr. Maxwell. “Now remember the rules; the starting line is directly opposite this dock and I’ve got some string which we will use for tape at the finish. Each team is to paddle once around the island. When the second relay starts, the two canoes that have finished will be stationed out here about twenty feet apart and this string will be stretched between them; that will be the finish line. All four canoes will be used of course and the second relay must not start until those completing the first have touched the canoes with their paddles. Is it all clear?”

“All clear,” said Grant, and Thomas answered for his side.

“Very well,” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell. “The first canoes may take their places and the second relay had better be ready too.”

George and Fred pushed out from the dock and paddled slowly to the starting point; Herbert and Franklin followed close behind.

When they were in position, and by the way the red team had drawn the course nearest shore, Mr. Maxwell lifted his small megaphone and gave his final instructions.

“Remember,” he called, “once around, and the inside team this lap will be the outside next. Don’t get mixed up.”

“That’ll be a little help to us,” said John in a low voice to Grant. “I hope Fred and Pop can give us a little lead to start out with.”

“I hope so too,” replied Grant.

“On your marks!” shouted Mr. Maxwell.

Four boys sat up alert and eager for the final word.

“Get set!”

Four paddles were raised and held poised for instant action.

“Go!”

The blades were dipped deeply into the water and the race was on. Side by side the two canoes sped along.

“You fellows better go out there and take your places,” said Mr. Maxwell, turning to the four boys who were to continue the race the next relay. “We don’t want any mixup then, you know. It would be a shame to have those boys paddle over half a mile for nothing.”

In response to his suggestion, Grant and John, and Hugh and Thomas, paddled slowly out to the starting line, there to await the arrival of their respective team-mates.

“Take it slow, Fred,” urged George from his position in the stern of the racing canoe. “Don’t kill yourself right at the start.”

They had covered about one hundred yards of their course and all four boys were paddling with every ounce of strength they possessed.

“Dip your paddle deep,” he continued. “Take a long easy stroke. A good steady pace is what we want.”

“They’ll get way ahead of us,” protested Fred.

“What if they do? They’ll be all in at the finish and we’ll start a sprint.”

In response to George’s suggestion they eased up materially. As Fred had predicted the other canoe immediately began to draw away, for its two occupants did not relax their efforts for an instant. Wider and wider the gap opened between them until thirty feet separated the two racers when they came to the first turn.

The island was oval in its shape, very much like an egg. The start had been made from a point about midway between the two ends. The first stretch, therefore, was half the length of the island, then the corner was turned and the whole length of the island was covered, ending with the home stretch, half the length of the island again.

Steadily and strongly, George and Fred paddled. Herbert and Franklin still worked desperately, taking nearly three strokes to the other boys’ two, and as a result, the gap between the two boats continually widened.

“Don’t let it worry you, Fred,” said George. “They can’t keep up that pace very much longer.”

“They’re not weakening yet though, Pop.”

“I know it, but we’ve only covered half the course so far.”

Steadily the red team’s canoe drew away. Forty, fifty feet, they were in the lead now. If any one had been in a position to observe, however, he would have seen that its occupants were beginning to show signs of weakening. Their breath came faster and faster, the perspiration rolled off their faces in streams, and their muscles began to ache and throb.

Relentlessly George and Fred followed them. Not one bit did they increase their efforts, though George had great difficulty in restraining his companion. Powerful, even strokes urged their tiny craft on and now they were holding their own. Just ahead of them was the last turn which was to bring them into the home stretch.

“How do you feel, Fred?” asked George.

“Fine.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not very.”

“I hope not. We’ll start a sprint the second we round that turn and we’ll have to put all we’ve got into it.”

The leading canoe was even now turning the point. The boys in it were plainly tired as their frequent splashing showed. They still worked desperately, however, and it would be no mean task to overtake them.

Grant and John sat in their canoe at the starting point eagerly awaiting the appearance of their team-mates. To their dismay, it was Franklin and Herbert who first hove in sight and to the waiting boys it seemed as if hours elapsed before George and Fred rounded the turn. At last they appeared, however, over thirty yards in the rear.

“Now, Fred!” urged George, as they started on the home stretch. “Let ’em have it.”

Like demons the two boys began to ply their paddles. The light canoe was quick to respond and it fairly flew over the water. Foot by foot and yard by yard they gained on their fast-tiring opponents.

Franklin and Herbert paddled desperately. Their strength was gone however; they had used it all up at the start of the race. Their arms felt like great chunks of lead and it was all the two boys could do to make them respond to the urging of their wills.

At racehorse speed, George and Fred plowed along. The gap between the two canoes began to disappear as if by magic. The steady pace they had maintained had tired them, to be sure, but they still had plenty of reserve strength left and they were using it now when it counted most. The cheers of their team-mates waiting for them came faintly to their ears, spurring them on.

“We’ve got ’em, Fred! We’ve got ’em!” exclaimed George triumphantly. “Stick to it.”

Fifty yards away was the finish line and the canoes were almost on even terms. Forty yards and George and Fred were in the lead. Their rivals were beaten, dead tired, and possessed of scarcely the strength necessary to urge their canoe across the line.

Thirty yards from home and George and Fred enjoyed a lead of nearly five yards. They were moving at easily twice the speed of their opponents now. It seemed certain that Grant and John were to be handed a splendid head-start for the last relay, when an unexpected and most disheartening thing suddenly happened.