There was no danger in these spills. Two motor boats followed behind and picked up the swamped contestants.
But before Grace was picked up she saw Polly Jarley flash by in the birchbark. There were but three cedar boats ahead of the boatman's daughter, and all were coming down the return course, the paddlers straining to do their very best.
Wyn had a splendid, even stroke; Bess was getting heated, and bit her lip as she paddled. It always hurt Bess when she lost. Up from the rear Polly urged her birchbark with long, steady heaves that seemed to prove her magnificent muscles tireless.
The spectators began to shout for the boatman's daughter. They saw that she was making a magnificent attempt to win the race.
But when Wyn heard them shouting for another number rather than her own--she did not notice which!--she put forth every ounce of spare strength she possessed.
Bess was left behind by the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. Her canoe quivering, her paddle actually bending under her work, Wyn dashed on. Bess and the other girl were out of the race--hopelessly. It lay between Wyn and the birchbark canoe.
Polly did not withhold her paddle when she saw her friend dart ahead; it was a perfectly fair race. But the boatman's girl had done so well at first, considering her handicap and all, that there was little wonder if she could not keep up the gruelling work. She had no reserve force, as Wyn had.
The latter dashed over the mark with undiminished speed. Polly only halted long enough to congratulate her.
"It's dear of you to be glad, Polly, when I know you wanted the prize," cried Wyn. "But we couldn't both have it."
"You have helped me enough to-day, Wynifred," replied Polly, softly. "Now father and I will go home. He told me how it would be, if he came down here; but at least we won the big prize, thanks to you, and money means so much to us now!"
The day was not over yet for the Go-Aheads and the Busters, although the races were finished. Somehow the news was spread among the campers on Gannet Island and Green Knoll that there was to be a "grand treat" at the ice-cream tables, and they gathered "like eagles to the kill," Frankie poetically declared.
The waiter brought heaping dishes of cream, there were nice cakes, and Tubby's unctuous smile at one end of the table radiated cheer. They were all very jolly and nobody asked who was to pay the piper until the waiter gravely brought Dave Shepard the check and a slip of paper.