The girls had won.
“What is it?” called the young man as he stood up at his wheel.
“The rocks,” answered Cora. “We can’t race any more.”
“We don’t need to,” he replied. “You won. I congratulate you!”
His tone was sincere, his manner courteous, but, as Cora looked into his boat, when it rushed up alongside her slowed-down craft, she noted that his throttle was still partly closed.
Instantly a suspicion came to her.
“He did not try to win!” was the suggestion that flashed to her mind. “He didn’t try!”
For a moment her brain was in a whirl, and she had an idea that she ought to tell her chums what she had in mind. Then she decided to be cautious—to wait and watch a little longer. She wanted to find out his reason.
Who was this strange young man who seemed so friendly? What did he want in Bayhead? Why had he proposed a race? And then, after proposing it, why had he not won it when, clearly, he might have done so?
These were the questions that Cora asked herself as she slowed down her motor.