It was glorious fun skimming along the lake in the pretty little craft. Shores flew past and sail boats and canoes were left far behind. The other boat kept well ahead of them for awhile. Over the noise of its chugging engine they could hear the scornful laugh of the young man who was running it.
“What an impolite person,” observed Miss Campbell. “There is nothing ridiculous about any of us, I hope.”
“He’s laughing because he thinks he’s going to beat us,” said Edward over his shoulder. “But wait and see what happens when we beat him. We are almost at the goal now.”
Gradually the Firefly began to get up speed, and chug and work as the other boat would, it could not keep abreast of the graceful swift-moving craft which shot ahead and presently slowed up just opposite the knock-kneed, rickety little boat-house on the shore.
The girls were standing up, and Miss Campbell was waving her handkerchief in her enjoyment and excitement.
“It was thrilling,” she cried. “I have never actually been in a race before, and how beautiful to be the winner. If I had known there was going to be a race I should have offered a prize for us to win, ourselves. The young man should never have laughed. It is unlucky to laugh before a race is decided.”
At that moment the other boat came up.
“The race was not a fair one,” exclaimed the young man, whose name we will presently find is Clarence Paxton. He was frowning and biting his lips angrily.
“What was wrong about it, I’d like to know?” demanded Edward.
“You had the start of at least half a minute.”