eaten again by the Skylark,--as I
believe she will be,--it will be all the worse for your firm," laughed
Robert.

"I am willing to run the risk," replied Donald. "If we can't build a
boat as fast as the Skylark, I want to know it."

"But, Don John, you don't expect me to _let_ you beat me--do you?"

"Certainly not, Bob. I hope you will do your very best, and I shall be
satisfied with the result."

It was soon reported over the Penobscot that another race was to be
sailed immediately, and the report created intense excitement when the
circumstances of the affair were explained. Judges were appointed, and
other arrangements concluded. Donald and Ned Patterdale went on board of
the Sea Foam, and Commodore Montague on board of the Skylark. The two
yachts anchored in line, with the Skylark to windward, as she was three
inches longer than the other. The start was to be made at the firing of
the first gun. Donald took his place at the helm of the Sea Foam, and
stationed the hands. He was a little afraid that Ned Patterdale was not
as enthusiastic as he might be; for if his yacht won the race, the
responsibility for the loss of the first prize in the regatta would rest
upon him, and not upon his craft. It would not be so pleasant for him to
know that he had failed, in any degree, as a skipper. The position of
Donald, therefore, was not wholly agreeable; for he did not like to
prove that his friend was deficient in skill, though the future
prosperity of the firm of Ramsay and Son required him to do so.

The wind was even fresher than before, and dark clouds indicated a heavy
rain before night; but Donald did not heed the weather. He stationed Ned
in the standing-room to tend the jib-sheets and mind the centre-board.
Two hands were at the cable, and two more at the jib-halyards.

"Are you all ready forward?" called the skipper _pro tem._ of the Sea
Foam.

"All ready," replied the hands. And Donald waited with intense interest
for the gun.

Bang.

"Let go! Hoist the jib!" cried Donald.

The hands forward worked with a will. The rope was thrown into the
tender, to which the end of it was made fast, and the jib, crackling and
banging in the stiff breeze, now almost a gale, went up in an instant.

"Haul down the lee jib-sheet," said Donald to his companion in the
standing-room. And it is but fair to say that Ned worked as briskly as
the yachtmen at the bow.

The Sea Foam heeled over, as the blast struck her sails, till