"Oh, well," he remarked, "boys will be boys, you know—especially when they're sailors."
"Our boys are not that sort," retorted Mr. Farnum, sharply. "They are not hoodlums or racketers."
"Then of course you'll find 'em safe on one of your boats," proposed Mr. Rhinds, innocently. "Just two minutes, and I'll go down to breakfast with you."
Radwin, too, joined them. He also expressed surprise, artfully. All four went to the breakfast room together. Messrs. Farnum and Pollard ate well enough, though they seemed badly worried.
"There's just one thing about it, of course," sighed Jacob Farnum, as the party left the table. "If our youngsters are not on one of our boats, then we've got to lose the speed race to-day. None of us can handle the boats the way they do."
"Oh, you'll find the boys all right on one of the boats," asserted Fred
Radwin, confidently.
The rivals went down to the water front together. It was well after nine o'clock when they entered a shore boat.
"We'll go out to your craft, first," proposed Mr. Rhinds, "You'll feel so much better, gentlemen, when you find your crew all right. I'll feel better, too, for I wouldn't want to beat you unfairly to-day."
Grant Andrews and two of his workmen stood on the platform deck of the "Benson," leaning against the conning tower, when the shore boat came within hail.
"I am afraid to call out to Grant, and ask him," faltered the shipbuilder.