"You lost the race to us," Hartwell declared stoutly. "Preston
High School beat Gridley High School by several lengths!"
"Hardly that," Dick retorted coolly. "Preston High School merely distanced some boys from Gridley High School. You didn't defeat a Gridley High School canoe crew."
"Why didn't we?" the Preston High School big chief questioned.
"Because, if you recall all the chat we had last night, the 'Scalp-hunter's' crew isn't yet official. We haven't been authorized by the Athletic Council of Gridley High School."
"Is that the way you get out of it?" blurted Hartwell.
"No," Dick smiled. "That's the way we get Gridley High School out of the charge of defeat. As soon as we're authorized to represent Gridley High School as an official canoe crew, then you may claim any victory you can obtain over us. But you haven't beaten our high school yet for the reason that we don't officially represent Gridley High School. Isn't that all clear?"
"I suppose so," Hartwell assented disappointedly. "But we took it that we were racing the Gridley High School Canoe Club."
"Then after this you want to do more thinking," Dick laughed. "But don't feel too disappointed, Preston. Just as soon as we receive sanction from our Athletic Council we'll give you a race in earnest, and a chance for all the glory you are able to take away from us."
There was some further good-natured talk, after which the two canoe clubs separated.
Dick guided the "Scalp-hunter" back to camp. There, as soon as the canoe had been hauled ashore, Dave Darrin threw himself on the grass, remarking: