They had gotten beyond the protection of the arm of land that enclosed the bay, and with a strong tide running there were more waves than there had been at first.
But the girls did not mind, save perhaps Lottie, and her chief anxiety was for her dress. An oilskin coat, however, averted this danger, and she settled back in her place.
Cora looked back at the oncoming boat of the young man. It was within ten feet of her now, and as she opened the throttle of the Chelton a trifle more, she tried to get a glimpse of the controlling mechanism of her rival’s craft.
She stood up to do this, and, as she did so there came a slapping wave against the bow of her boat. Cora staggered at the wheel, and Lottie screamed.
“Be quiet!” commanded Cora. “It’s all right.”
“But we roll so!”
“There is a bit of a sea on,” admitted Cora, calmly. “It will be over in a few minutes, though. I’ll have to tell him we’re close to the danger point, and will have to slow down.”
Determining to end the race in good style, Cora opened up the throttle full, and advanced the spark to the limit. The Chelton responded with a sudden burst of speed that carried her some distance ahead of the rival craft.
But the young man was evidently not going to take his defeat easily. The louder exhaust from his engine told that he, too, had put on more power.
But it was not enough, for as Cora raised her hand, in automobile-signal fashion, to warn her follower of an impending stop, the end of the impromptu race course was reached.