lures before succeeding, giving time to
the others to come up and pass them. They were about abreast now, coming
along slowly.

It was smooth paddling now, along the shores of green meadows and
pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of
the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below,
the canoes were drawn out on shore and luncheon was eaten. They built no
fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in,
the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and
chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the
rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry
Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, assuring the
Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place."

The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons
together.

CHAPTER IX

AN EXCITING FINISH

When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown
four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there
was a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White.
Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisons
fully a mile.

Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who
had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result
fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a
contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their
first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back
in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for
carrying it out.

But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a
strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of
rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and
Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and
hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers
strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That
quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water
with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way
that could not be equalled by less trained rivals.

Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they,
too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glance
back over his shoulder; after whic