Part 25 (1/2)

”Oh, it's all in the game!” laughed Bess. Certainly her nerves seemed all right now.

The young man--he had refrained from giving his name, either by accident or design--had been bending over his motor during the whispered talk among the girls. Now he looked up again.

”Well,” he asked, pleasantly, ”is it to be a race?”

”If you like,” answered Cora, calmly.

”I certainly do like. I'm going to enter some of the Bayhead races, and I'd like to see how my boat will go.”

”But it's a lighter boat than ours,” returned Cora, who was not willing to give nor take an unfair advantage. ”And we have five pa.s.sengers.”

”I've thought of that,” the young man went on. ”I'm willing to accept a handicap. I'll drop back about five hundred feet and allow you that much.”

”That would be fair,” a.s.sented Cora, who, from having taken part in various races knew what would be about right.

”Then here goes!” cried the stranger, as he throttled down his motor.

”I'll give you a hail when I'm coming on.”

The _Chelton_ at once began drawing away from the _Pickerel_, which was the name of the stranger's boat.

This craft, it seemed, had a clutch arrangement, so that the motor could be allowed to run without the propeller revolving. Cora's boat was likewise equipped.

”Are you going to beat him?” asked Lottie, as she moved back where no drop of spray could spot her blue dress.

”I am certainly going to try,” said Cora with a smile. ”What does a race amount to if you don't try to win?”

”Oh, of course, but then I thought this was only in fun.”

”It's a race for keeps,” announced Cora. ”And I think we'll win. That last gasoline we got is the best we ever had. It gives us more power, and the _Chelton_ is running like a sewing machine, as Jack says. I think we're going to win!”

She opened the throttle a little wider and the _Chelton_ responded instantly.

A moment later there came a hail from the rear.

”Distance enough! I'm coming!”

Cora glanced back.

”He certainly was generous,” she said. ”That's a good five hundred feet.”

”He looks like a generous chap,” murmured Lottie. She was again polis.h.i.+ng her nails. Possibly she thought she might be introduced to the stranger, later on.

There was the sound of a louder exhaust from the boat astern. The young man evidently was going to try his best to win.

But Cora had no intention of letting him do so. She had shrewdly estimated the ability of his boat, as well as she could, though of course it was difficult, in the case of a craft she had never before seen.

”Sit on the other side; will you, Lottie dear?” asked Cora, as, grasping the steering wheel with firmer fingers she looked at the course ahead of her.

”Oh, I'm so comfortable here,” objected Lottie.