“That enough?”
“All right,” said Fred. “My, I hope this breeze holds.”
“It’s getting stronger, I think,” said George.
“It does seem to be,” agreed Grant. “It’s dead ahead of us now, but if it doesn’t change, it’ll be right behind us on the last leg of the race. I think it’s always fun to be able to finish straight before the wind.”
“That’s true,” exclaimed John. “We go in the opposite direction the second round, don’t we?”
The Balsam was skimming over the water rapidly on a long tack to leeward. Behind her came the Spruce, also making good time and with about the same distance between the two boats that had separated them at the start.
“They’re pointing up a little more than we are, I think,” remarked Grant, after a glance at their rival.
“We’re all right, though,” said Fred confidently. “I don’t believe in sailing as close hauled as that.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Grant. “At any rate you know more about it than the rest of us. We’ll have to do as you say whether we like it or not.”
They rounded the first stake thirty yards ahead of the Spruce. Fred’s tactics on the first leg had proved successful, anyway.