Dotted along the water front of the hotel grounds were many little groups of waiting spectators in chairs, on campstools or sitting on the grass.
In the morning buoys had been set on the lake at each end of a measured course. The course was to be a mile, around the upper buoy and returning to the starting line. The usual rules of boat and canoe racing were to apply as to clear water, fouling and the like, as well as the right of way at the upper buoy in case the rival canoes were close together.
"It's half-past two o'clock now," announced the starter, glancing at his watch.
"At two-forty," stated the referee, "I shall order both canoes into the water. As soon after that as each crew captain chooses he may put his men aboard and take such warming-up work as he may wish. At two-fifty-six the first gun will be fired, and both crews must come promptly to the judges' boat for alignment. At exactly three the second shot will be fired—-the starting signal. Has either captain any questions to ask?"
Neither captain had any questions.
"Let me know, time-keeper, when it is two-forty," said the referee, going toward the door. "Both captains will be on the alert to avoid delays."
As the referee glanced out he saw that at least four hundred spectators were on hand. Two stage loads of men, woman, boys and girls had already arrived from Preston. Trentville also had sent a delegation.
"What's all that yelling with 'Gridley' in it?" cried Dick, jumping up and moving toward the door.
He was followed by his chums. They reached the float in time to see the automobile bus from Gridley coming down to the water front. In it were some thirty people of all ages.
"Oh, you Prescott!" yelled one irrepressible young man, through a megaphone. "Don't you dare make fools of us this afternoon! Gridley must win!"