“No, nor anybody else’s in the troop,” added Marjorie. “For I think most of the girls have found her out!”
Saturday proved to be cooler, and delightful; the girls were up early to enjoy the fine air of the morning.
“But I don’t move from this porch till time to dress for the meet,” announced Marjorie, with a significant glance at Ruth. “I’m not taking any chances.”
At eleven o’clock the Girl Scouts, all in bathing suits covered by raincoats, drove in the machines to the shore of the lake. Already crowds of people were sitting on the benches, and standing on the shore, waiting for the meet to start.
Through a megaphone Mr. Remington thanked the audience for their splendid support, and announced the relay and obstacle races which were to constitute the first part of the program. These, he said, were not included in the reckoning of points for the silver cup, and ribbons would be awarded to the successful teams. As lots were drawn to determine the participants of each side, the rivalry was not sharp; in fact Ruth, Frieda, and Marjorie, the three best canoeists, were all on the same side, so that they easily came in ahead. The real excitement lay in the individual contests.
The first of these was the rescue of the capsized canoe. Only five of the girls entered the event; Ethel Todd, Marjorie Wilkinson, Ruth Henry, Frieda Hammer, and Florence Evans. They all succeeded in their attempts; it would have been hard for the casual observer to decide whether to award the honors to Marjorie, Ruth, or Frieda. The judges—three men of Silvertown—put down mysterious marks in their books.
A short intermission of rest was granted the contestants before the final event—the individual canoe race. All of the girls had agreed to enter, although several of them—Doris, and Lily, and Alice Endicott, for example—knew that they stood not the slightest chance of winning. The distance required was across the lake and back—probably about three hundred yards.
The girls knelt in the center of their canoes, their paddles in their hands, awaiting the signal of departure. As soon as the whistle blew, the nine canoes shot forward, as if controlled by a single hand.
But they did not remain abreast long, for in a moment four fell back. And of the five in the lead, Ruth Henry’s came first!
“Hurry up, Marjorie! Oh, hurry!” cried Eloise Trowbridge, now a staunch friend of the girl.