As graceful as a thing of life the big war canoe slipped into the water, then lay there like a swan. Dave Darrin took hold of the bow-line, the pretty craft resting lightly against the float.
"Aren't you going to take your men out and warm them up, Prescott?" asked Referee Tyndall.
"No, sir; only for the last five minutes. We want only work enough to start the blood to moving well."
So only Dave stood by the canoe. Hatless, the Gridley High School boys paced up and down the float, awaiting word from Big Chief Prescott before embarking.
"I wish Dick would put our boys to work at once," murmured Belle uneasily. "Look what a fine showing Bob Hartwell's Preston fellows are making out there."
In truth the Preston boys were making a splendid showing with their brisk, steady, sturdy paddling. Many a cheer went up from shore for them.
"Time for us, Gridley," announced Prescott, when some minutes had passed.
Alertly his chums sprang to their posts. In a twinkling they were seated, each with his paddle in hand, holding lightly to the float.
"Shove off," said Dick, in a very low voice. As the "Scalp-hunter" started for the middle of the lake a wild Gridley yell broke loose.
But none of the boys paid heed. Each had his ears alert only for the orders of the captain.