A LITTLE RACE
For some time Cora held the lead in her boat, with the other following
in her wake. The girls talked among themselves, speculation being rife
as to what the young man wanted in Bayhead.
"It's an awfully swell place," said Lottie. "I spent one Summer there,
and it was nothing but dress, dress, dress all the while! Either for
motoring, tennis or bridge. Oh, I got so weary of it!"
"But you liked it--especially the dressing," put in Belle.
"I should have, my dear, I don't mind admitting that, if only I had
had enough gowns," went on Lottie, with a sigh. "But I didn't have
half enough. Papa was dreadfully poor that year. I believe he said
there had been a 'slump in the market,' whatever that means.
"Anyhow I know I couldn't begin to dress as those in my set did. So
that's how I remember Bayhead. I should like to go there again. It's
perfectly stunning."
"That young fellow doesn't look to be any too well dressed," remarked
Bess.
"Naturally he wouldn't--going out in a boat," said Cora. "Something
seems to be the matter with his engine," she added, for the stranger
was bending over it.
Whatever it was did not seem to be serious, for the lone motorboatist
straightened up again presently. He increased his speed, and came
alongside the _Chelton_.
"We seem to be some distance from the point," he said, with a smile.
"Don't you want a little race? You can call it off before we get near
the danger spot."
Cora was rather taken aback by the proposal. It was one thing to
direct a stranger, even when he was a youth good to look at, and it
was all right, too, to even pilot him on his way in strange waters;
but it was quite another matter to have the aforesaid stranger invite
himself to a race. It was like having a beggar apply at your front
door, and when given a sandwich, calmly ask for soup.
"I don't believe----" began Cora, but Bess slid up to her on the long
seat and whispered:
"Oh, do, Cora! It won't do any harm, and it will complete the nerve
cure you have begun so well. Besides, we need a little practice in
racing. We may take part in the water carnival down here."
"Well, if the rest of you are willing, I'm not going to be the one to
object," returned Cora, smilingly.
"Will--will it be dangerous?" faltered timid Marita.
"Not a bit--you dear little goose!" exclaimed Belle, putting her arm
about the shrinking one. "We've raced lots of times--and won, too!"
"Against such appealing strangers?" asked Lottie, raising her eyebrows
in a rather affected way.
"Oh, it's all in the game!" laughed Bess. Certainly her nerves seemed
all right now.
The young man--he had refrained from giving his name, either by
accident or design--had been bending over his motor during the
whispered talk among the girls. Now he looked up again.
"Well," he asked, pleasantly, "is it to be a race?"
"If you like," answered Cora, calmly.
"I certainly do like. I'm going to enter some of the Bayhead races,
and I'd like to see how my boat will go."
"But it's a lighter boat than ours," returned Cora, who was not
willing to give nor take an unfair advantage. "And we have five
passengers."
"I've thought of that," the young man went on. "I'm willing to accept
a handicap. I'll drop back about five hundred feet and allow you that
much."
"That would be fair," assented Cora, who, from having taken part in
various races knew what would be about right.
"Then here goes!" cried the stranger, as he throttled down his motor.
"I'll give you a hail when I'm coming on."
The _Chelton_ at once began drawing away from the _Pickerel_, which
was the name of the stranger's boat.
This craft, it seemed, had a clutch arrangement, so that the motor
could be allowed to run without the propeller revolving. Cora's boat
was likewise equipped.
"Are you going to beat him?" asked Lottie, as she moved back where no
drop of spray could spot her blue dress.
"I am certainly going to try," said Cora with a smile. "What does a
race amount to if you don't try to win?"
"Oh, of course, but then I thought this was only in fun."
"It's a race for keeps," announced Cora. "And I think we'll win. That
last gasoline we got is the best we ever had. It gives us more power,
and the _Chelton_ is running like a sewing machine, as Jack says. I
think we're going to win!"
She opened the throttle a little wider and the _Chelton_ responded
instantly.
A moment later there came a hail from the rear.
"Distance enough! I'm coming!"
Cora glanced back.
"He certainly was generous," she said. "That's a good five hundred
feet."
"He looks like a generous chap," murmured Lottie. She was again
polishing her nails. Possibly she thought she might be introduced to
the stranger, later on.
There was the sound of a louder exhaust from the boat astern. The
young man evidently was going to try his best to win.
But Cora had no intention of letting him do so. She had shrewdly
estimated the ability of his boat, as well as she could, though of
course it was difficult, in the case of a craft she had never before
seen.
"Sit on the other side; will you, Lottie dear?" asked Cora, as,
grasping the steering wheel with firmer fingers she looked at the
course ahead of her.
"Oh, I'm so comfortable here," objected Lottie.
"I know, but the boat isn't trimmed properly, and she can't do her
best unless she is."
"Like us girls," remarked Belle. "We, too, must be properly trimmed to
do our best."
"Trimmed!" exclaimed Lottie. "I don't see any frills on the _Chelton_."
"You may later, if we win the race," said Bess. "But what Cora means
is that the boat isn't properly balanced. There is too much weight on
the starboard side."
"Oh, then I'm on the starboard side," said Lottie.
"Yes, or on the right, according to the new navy rules," agreed Cora.
"But, really, someone must shift."
"But if I go over there I'm afraid the spray will get on my dress,"
objected Lottie. "And it spots terribly, especially with salt water."
"I'll change over," said Marita. "I don't mind if my dress does get
wet."
"You're a dear," sighed Lottie, as she settled back among the
cushions.
"And you're a bit selfish," thought Cora.
The _Chelton_, now in better trim, skimmed over the bay. Behind her
came the _Pickerel_. And, as Cora looked back she noted that the young
man's craft was slowly overtaking her.
"He has more speed than I thought he had," she mused.
Foot by foot the young man urged his boat onward. Clearly he was not
of that false chivalrous type that permits a lady to win whether she
has the ability or not. To a really athletic girl, pitted against a
man in an equal contest, nothing is more humiliating than to realize
that her opponent is not putting forth all his powers. There are some
men who will never try too hard to win from a woman. This stranger was
evidently not of that type, and Cora valued him accordingly.
"Can you get up any more speed?" asked Belle, anxiously.
"I've got a bit left," said Cora, as she opened the throttle a little
wider. "And I think I'll need it," she added.
"He certainly is coming on," added Belle in a low voice. "Are we
getting too near the rocks, Cora?"
"No, it's safe so far. But I think I'll go out a bit. I want to win
this race."