“Take it slow, Fred,” urged George from his position in the stern of the racing canoe. “Don’t kill yourself right at the start.”
They had covered about one hundred yards of their course and all four boys were paddling with every ounce of strength they possessed.
“Dip your paddle deep,” he continued. “Take a long easy stroke. A good steady pace is what we want.”
“They’ll get way ahead of us,” protested Fred.
“What if they do? They’ll be all in at the finish and we’ll start a sprint.”
In response to George’s suggestion they eased up materially. As Fred had predicted the other canoe immediately began to draw away, for its two occupants did not relax their efforts for an instant. Wider and wider the gap opened between them until thirty feet separated the two racers when they came to the first turn.
The island was oval in its shape, very much like an egg. The start had been made from a point about midway between the two ends. The first stretch, therefore, was half the length of the island, then the corner was turned and the whole length of the island was covered, ending with the home stretch, half the length of the island again.
Steadily and strongly, George and Fred paddled. Herbert and Franklin still worked desperately, taking nearly three strokes to the other boys’ two, and as a result, the gap between the two boats continually widened.
“Don’t let it worry you, Fred,” said George. “They can’t keep up that pace very much longer.”
“They’re not weakening yet though, Pop.”