Ben now prepared to take his canoe and start for the head of the course, where all those who were to participate were to assemble. As he lowered the canoe into the water, Bob approached him, and said soberly,—
“I think I’ll go with you, Ben. I’ve got your clothes here, and you’ll need some one to look after you. I’m the kind-hearted friend to do that very thing.”
“I was expecting you to say that,” replied Ben. “I was wondering why you didn’t speak up before. Where’s your craft, Bob?”
“My craft! Why, I haven’t any here, and you know it;” but a peculiar twinkle in Ben’s eye caused him to approach, and a whispered conversation at once followed.
No one of the others could hear what was said, but the result was apparent when Ben consented to his friend’s going with him, and in a brief time both boys were in the canoe, and Ben was ready to push off.
“You’ll not forget that we have some luncheon on board, boys,” called Miss Bessie. “You’ll surely be back in time to have some of that.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” laughed Ben. “I never knew Bob to be late for anything of that kind. I trust you have enough; for he’ll be hungry, I can promise you.”
A cheer followed the boys as Ben dipped his paddle in the water, and the canoe darted forward under his powerful strokes. His long form was not particularly graceful, but the speed of his canoe promised well, and Jock turned to the others and said,—
“I shouldn’t be surprised if Ben did get a place in the finals to-day. He’s improved wonderfully. The way he has kept at it is a lesson for us all. I wish he might win. I wonder what Bob really went with him for? Do you know I half suspect he’s got a scheme of some kind of his own.”
No one replied, for the sound of a pistol was now heard, and the first of the races was begun. It was a contest between cat-boats, and as the beautiful little crafts swept into sight and dipped low before the strong and favoring breeze, the shrill whistles of the steam-yachts, the waving of handkerchiefs, and the shouts of the people welcomed them.