The boys were too busy to pay much attention to the results of the other races, but a member of the club who had won the Blake trophy for the cabin cruiser boats, warned the boys to beware of the turn above the far buoy.
"It's choppy as the dickens there," he said, as he made his way to the club house, "and you want to take the turn easily. Don't 'bank' it, or you'll lose more than you gain."
The boys thanked him for his advice, and laid it to heart to be used when the race was on.
Sam's boat having been tuned up to the last notch of readiness, Jack Curtiss strolled consequentially about on the float, making bets freely on the hydroplane's chance of winning.
"I'll bet you twenty-five to any odds you like that the hydroplane wins the race," he said, addressing Colin Maxwell, the son of a well-to-do merchant from a neighboring town. Young Maxwell had heard nothing of Jack's mean trick in the aeroplane contest, and therefore didn't mind talking to him.
"I like the look of the Flying Fish pretty well," was the response, "and I'll take you up. You'll have to give me odds, though."
"Oh, certainly," responded the bully, with a confident grin; "twenty-five to thirty, say."
"Make it thirty-five."
"All right; done," said Jack. "You know me, of course; no necessity of putting up the money."
"Oh, not the least," rejoined the other politely, though had he known the state of Jack's finances he might have thought differently.