"Hold on to what?" cried the Colorado lad, grabbing the edge of the centerboard well. "She's pitching like a wild bronco!"
"Stick to the saddle," chuckled Pewee. "You should like this."
"I do—like fun!" grumbled Cloudman. "Spilled my kettle of hot water. How can I wash greasy pans without hot water?"
"Let 'em stay greasy till the next meal. Then they're all ready to use again," Red suggested.
"We ought to have a dog," Peewee declared.
"What for?"
"Like the lazy woman's dog. She called it 'Three Waters' and when folks asked her if her dishes were washed clean, she always said, 'Just as clean as Three Waters can make them.'"
"That's an awful chestnut," Red said. "We'll have no such housekeeping as that. Better let 'em stay greasy."
Meanwhile the Spoondrift was tearing through the jumping waves, with the wind in the most favorable quarter. The strength of the wind was increasing, too, and the Spoondrift was distinctly a heavy-weather craft.
In saving her from being "cross-bowed" by her handsome rival, Kingdon had lost a bit on the length of that leg. Now the Spoondrift rushed down toward the opening of the channel like a steam tug. As the other sailing craft was about to tack, the Walcott Hall boys crossed the stranger's bows.