e _Chelton_ rounded the stake first. Drayton had
lost time in running too close to shore. Only a minute later the
_Dixie_ swayed after the _Chelton_, then the final stretch was taken
up in earnest. Spectators on the bank might wave now, but the
motorists had no eyes for them. A slight miss in the _Chelton's_
explosion brought Denny and Ed to their feet--there should be no break
in the rhythm of that chug.

"She's all right," Ed called to the old sailor, "only too much oil."

Denny shook his head lest a word might interfere with the boat's
motion. Dray stood up and did something that caused the bow of his
boat to shoot up, while the stern seemed to bury itself in the waves.

"His is a racer," Walter told Bess, who was as intent as any of the
watchers on the result of the trial of speed.

"Maybe ours will turn out to be a winner," Bess responded. "We keep
pretty close."

Jack never took his hand off the steering wheel, Denny was watching
the engine, and the others were peering down the straight course
ahead.

"Oh, I'm getting all wet," exclaimed Marita, for the spray was dashing
in on all sides.

"Get down in the bottom," advised Walter, "we can't slacken up now. Or
go in the cabin if you like and close the ports."

This was a signal for all three girls to slip down to the floor of the
boat and while they lost the good view afforded from the seats, they
evidently enjoyed the change, and craned their necks to see over the
sides.

"Of course Dray will win," complained Belle. "We couldn't expect to
beat the _Dixie_."

"We might," encouraged Bess. "Cora said this boat had remarkable speed
for its size."

"Gee, whiz!" shouted Walter, "look at that spray deluge Dray!"

"And she's missing," added Ed, for the sounds from the _Dixie_ were
distinctly out of time.

Suddenly Dray's boat slowed down, and the _Chelton_ shot so far ahead
that it was plain something had happened to the _Dixie_.

Jack stood up and looked back. "Something is wrong," he said. "We had
better not get too far ahead. Dray is fussing with the carbureter."

The race was over. The girls stood up from their hiding place and Jack
turned the boat about. By this time Dray had turned off the gasoline
and the _Dixie_ merely heaved up and down on the swells.

"What's the matter, Dray?" called Walter. "Something given way?"

"I don't know," answered Dray, "she simply won't 'mote.'"

"Let me take a look at her," suggested Denny, ever eager for a new