Off they raced, light and graceful and buoyantly alive. It was no task at all to overtake Roy, who was hampered by gasping little Mrs. Irving—who, although young, was not—so young. Next came Amy and Will, running easily, but Allen and Betty passed them as if they had been standing still.
"Oh, you will, will you?" Will shouted as they went by. "We'll see about that. What do you say, Amy, more speed?"
"Sure," said game little Amy. "I can go lots faster than this." So the two quickened their pace, but Betty and Allen were on wings, and, try as they might, they could not lessen the space between.
"Oh, well, we don't want to beat them anyway, do we?" said Will, when they had to give up.
"No, we wouldn't think of taking the fun from them," she panted, and they both laughed merrily.
Meanwhile the two champion runners had overtaken Grace and Frank and had started on the last lap to the wharf.
"There's the little steamer now, Allen!" gasped Betty. "Oh, do you think it will go without us?" As if for answer the whistle on the curious old ferry shrieked a warning to all would-be voyagers to Pine Island.
Allen's hand tightened its grasp of Betty's arm. "Are you game for one last spurt?" he asked her. "We may be able to make it."
Betty nodded her head, for just then breath was precious and not to be wasted in idle words. Silently, the two called on their splendid reserve strength, while arm in arm they sped along the shore to the dock. They reached it just in the nick of time.
"Hold on there, will you?" shouted Allen, with what he had left of his breath. "The rest of the party will be up in a minute."