After some instructions from Miss Mackin, who, among other things, insisted upon “good form rather than speed,” they pulled out gracefully, the “Down Paddle” start having been executed by the eight doubles as precisely as if done by a simple stroke.
And wonder of wonders! There was a moving-picture man on shore, grinding his machine as if each grind depended on speed and not upon form, for only in a sudden burst of strong sunset light did the camera operator hope to get a picture of the Girl Scouts on Lake Hocomo.
“In the movies!” breathed Julia, dipping her paddle with such awe as might have been occasioned had some perfume stream sprung up through the many springs beneath the water’s surface. It was sweet, indeed, to be pictured thus, and not a Bobbie among them but felt a little tinge of pride when the boys shouted after them:
“You’ll be in the movies, girls!”
“Queer how much more important we are to-day than we were yesterday,” remarked Cleo analytically.
“Because yesterday we were girls, while to-day we are Scouts,” explained Mackey. “That’s the value of team play, you know. Now we will paddle in to the Point, and see that we make a perfect landing. That’s one thing we have to learn in good canoeing.”
Dip after dip took them gracefully down the lake to where the Point landing jutted out among all sorts of craft, the motor-boating being easily as common at the lakeside as is the “motor-caring” at any inland parkside.
“I hope we don’t jam them,” whispered Grace to Cleo, who was her canoe partner.
“If we have to jam anyone, I hope it’s that ‘streak’—you know, Grace, that queer bug-boat those girls from the hotel always ride in.”
“Why?” asked Grace, leaning closer.