“Forget it,” exclaimed Grant. “We’re still ahead of them, aren’t we?”
“But not much,” said Fred, and he glanced hastily around at the Spruce not more than fifteen yards distant now.
“I hope they don’t get our wind,” said George. “It’s certainly going down and we need every bit of it we can get.”
“You’re right, Pop,” said John. “The wind is lighter and you know what Fred said about the Spruce probably doing better than the Balsam in a light breeze.”
Still maintaining their slight advantage the Balsam turned the last stake and started down the home stretch. The wind was dead astern of both boats now and the sails were stretched at right angles to the mast in order to get the full benefit of the breeze.
“They’ll blanket us, I’m afraid,” muttered Fred gloomily.
“What do you mean by that?” asked George.
“Why, they’ll get right behind us and shut off all our wind.”
“Don’t let them do it, then.”
“You don’t think I’d let them on purpose, do you?”