They took their places, struck the water together at the sound of the horn, and the second day's race was begun.
Confident as were the occupants of the second and third canoes, it was a bit disconcerting, at the outset, to see the leaders go swiftly past them on the way down stream, while they had still to go on against the current up to the turning point. Moreover, the leading canoe quickly caught a patch of swift running water, which the Ellisons had carried around the day before, but could run now, by merely guiding their canoe. So, at the start, they made an encouraging gain, and turned once, at the foot of some rapids, to wave back defiance at their opponents.
Skill and training were bound to tell, however. In the miles that were reeled off rapidly now, the second and third canoes gained on the leaders in the calm, still, sluggish places. There was more spring and snap to their muscles. Their canoes moved faster through the water.
Eight miles down stream, they were overhauling the foremost canoe rapidly, the canoes of Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harvey being nearly abreast, and the four straining every nerve and muscle. The Warrens had fallen at least a half mile behind them.
Luck had been with the Ellisons, surely; for running rapids in shallow water is most uncertain work. Tom and Bob, old canoeists, knew well the appearance of water that denotes a sunken rock, and by sheer skill and watchfulness turned their canoe aside ever and again with a quick sweep of the paddles, to avoid a treacherous place, where the water whirled ominously. Henry Burns and Harvey had lately come down the stream, and knew by that experience how easy it was to get hung up when it was least expected.
Yet, with all experience, now and again a canoe would grate and perhaps hang for a moment in some rapid; and once, when the canoe of Tom and Bob would have shot ahead of Harvey's, they went hard aground, and lost precious minutes.
When they were within a mile of the rapids where Henry Burns had won honours on the preceding day, however, Tom and Bob had shown the proof of their superior training and skill; they were leading Harvey and Henry Burns and were close upon the leaders.
"Cheer up, Jack," said Henry Burns, coolly, to his comrade; "they ought to win, but we've given them a good race, anyway. Something may happen yet."
And something did happen—but not to the canoe steered by Tom Harris.
The three foremost canoes were now upon the brink of the worst rapids, and each youth was bracing himself for the run. They saw the Ellisons shoot quickly over the brink, go swiftly down the smooth incline into the rougher water. All at once, the canoe seemed to be checked abruptly and hang for a moment. Then it slid on again. But the damage had been done. A sharp point of ledge had penetrated the canvas, and the canoe was leaking.