Remember, it's the disciplined paddling that wins a canoe race." At the next speed they went forward a little faster, to be sure.
Yet there was a decided lack of speed or a pull-back somewhere.
"Don't lose your nerve, Gridley!" floated Hartwell's voice over the water as the Preston canoe shot by at a wind-jamming speed.
"Want a tow, Gridley ?" hailed someone from shore.
"Next speed, fellows! Hit it up hard," called Dick Prescott.
Perspiration from extreme nervousness broke out on his forehead.
Strive as he would, the crew captain of the Gridleys could not shake off the gloomy depression that assailed him.

Something was wrong---radically wrong! The "Scalp-hunter" was not showing a winning gait! "Best speed---and work, fellows!" called Dick, as quietly as ever, though in his voice there was a note almost of despair.
Now, indeed, the Gridley craft sped through the water.

Yet all of her crew, and many people on shore, realized that the war canoe was not showing a prize-taking gait.
How Dick, Dave, Tom and the others worked, bending all their energies to the task! Yet all felt the same awful doubts.
Bang! The first gun had sounded.
"Down to the line, fellows!" Dick called.

"Put in all the steam you can.

I was wrong not to have warmed you up before.