“Don’t you want me to take the stern?” asked Gibbs. “You paddled all the way up.”
“Pshaw, I’m not tired,” answered Gary. “Let the bow come around.”
“Right-O!” cried Poke as the two canoes lay side by side. “Give the word, Bull.”
“All right. Are you ready? ... Go!”
Off they went, all four paddles digging hard. Poke was apparently trying to lift the bow of the Mi-Ka-Noo out of the water in his wild efforts, and Jeffrey called to him to slow down.
“Longer strokes, Poke, and make them tell! That’s it!”
For a moment during that first excited spurt the two canoes were in danger of colliding, but Jeffrey managed to swing away and in that instant the white canoe gained a slight lead.
In some places the channel was scarcely wide enough to allow the two canoes to travel side by side, since there were many snags along the banks. And so when the white canoe took the lead Jeffrey was content to let it keep it until they had passed the next turn and the channel widened. But the Mi-Ka-Noo hung close to the stern of the other craft in spite of Gary’s strenuous paddling, and presently, when the boat-house came into sight ahead, Jeffrey passed the word and slowly the Mi-Ka-Noo crept up foot by foot until it was even with its competitor.
Poke was not yet a scientific paddler, but he had plenty of muscle, meant to beat Gary if such a thing were possible and so toiled like a hero in the bow. At the stern Jeffrey’s experience made up for the fact that he hadn’t the strength to put into the strokes that Gary had. But it was, I think, the Mi-Ka-Noo that won its own race, for the crimson canoe was undoubtedly faster than the white one. Some fifty yards from the boat-house float the Mi-Ka-Noo’s curving prow drew away from the rival craft. Then Jeffrey, crouching at the stern, was even with the center of the white canoe, and Gary, paddling madly and grunting with every stroke of his flashing blade, called on Gibbs for a spurt.
“Come on, Punk! Get into it! Make her go!”