Herbie."

A close inspection failed to disclose any structural weakness about any one of the three boats, or their motive power. Of course, each pilot was convinced in his own mind that he had the best chance to win. George relied mainly on speed; Herb placed his dependence on the well known ability of his broad-beamed boat to stand up before heavy seas, and always get there safely in the end; while with Jack there was a combination of these several points of excellence.

"Well," the last named remarked, as they prepared to go home, and the boathouse was being locked up for the night; "I can see where we're going to have a warm time of it in the last half of the race."

"How's that?" burst forth the eager Nick. "Tell us, Jack; it ain't fair to keep anything back. Will they arrest us for breaking the speed laws down south?"

"See!" cried Herb, instantly, "that's where a guilty conscience works overtime. It's just what he gets for risking his life in that floating coffin," and he jerked his thumb disdainfully toward the building they were leaving.

At that the proud owner of the cigar-shaped craft laughed aloud.

"Green with envy already, Herb!" he exclaimed. "Don't you pay any attention to what he says, Pudding. We're just going to lick the whole bunch to a frazzle, and that's easy. Now, Jack, suppose you tell us what's on your mind? How are we going to have lots of trouble in the last half, more than in the beginning?"

"When you fellows begin to study those maps of the Mississippi I brought you, it will open your eyes," Jack went on. "Why, the upper stretches of this river are as straight as a yard stick compared with what lies below Memphis. If ever you saw a snake turning and twisting after you've hit him with a stone you've got an idea of what the big river is down there in Dixie. It forms loops and bends galore. It turns back north, runs east, then west and for a short time south. For ten miles southing you make you have to go thirty."

"Well, I understood that was the way; but why should that bother us?" demanded George. "What's fair for one is fair for all. We'll hug the easterly shore all we can, and save many a mile."

"Perhaps you will," smiled Jack, "and then again the current races faster out in the middle, so the boat that ventures may profit by that. But what I had in mind was the innumerable cut-offs we're apt to strike."

"Cut-offs!" exclaimed Nick, turning a trifle pale, as though he thought this had something to do with the favorite southern lynching bee.

"Oh! I know about those things," declared Herb, carelessly. "Sometimes a native can save twenty miles by shooting through where a passage runs across a neck of wooded land. But I guess the good old Comfort will stick to the main stream. I may be the tortoise in this race, but there's lots of chances the hares will lie down for a little nap in the way, and let me go past."

"But it's fair to take advantage of a cut-off, ain't it?" asked George.

"Of course it is, if you want to take the chance of getting twisted, and losing oodles of hours wandering around in some old swamp," Jack answered.

"Well, they ought to have those cut-offs marked with buoys, or sign posts," grumbled George.

"Too many changes taking place all the time," Jack replied, showing how earnestly he had been studying the field. "They just couldn't do it. But of all three craft, yours ought to be the last one to want to steal a march on the rest, George."

"Oh, well, I don't expect to be compelled to; but then you never know what's going to happen. Suppose we had a breakdown, and lost many hours—it might be up to the Wireless to get busy, and wipe out some of that slack. But I'm going to study that lower river part till I get it by heart, bet your boots on that, fellows."

"And me ditto," said Nick, quickly. "None of that lost in the swamp for me. Just think how awful it would be, boys, wandering around day after day with snakes and alligators waiting to snap you up! Ugh!"

"That isn't the worst of it, Buster; just imagine the food giving out! Whatever in the wide world would you do?" asked Jack, with a chuckle.

Nick gave a wild look, and then groaned dismally.

"If it came to a case of drawing lots I just know George would pick out the lucky number, because he often looks at me now as if he'd like to eat me," he mumbled, no doubt falling to the joke, but nevertheless with a vein of seriousness in his voice.

On the following day the six boys haunted the boathouse most of the time. If anything was forgotten it could not have been for lack of consultations, since they were constantly putting their heads together, advising, making little changes in the packing and stowing of things, and running errands back to their homes and the stores.

When they left at eventime they knew of nothing that could be done to better conditions. Each boat was in prime condition for the southern dash of many hundreds of miles, possibly over stormy waters, where perils of various kinds awaited them.

And doubtless never in the history of those several families were such restless boys known as during the Sunday that followed. The minutes seemed to drag as if weighted down with stones.

But the longest day has its end, and finally night came.

Alarm clocks had been set for dawn, but in few cases were they needed, since the boys were up and doing before the gray had actually crept into the eastern heavens.

At seven o'clock a crowd began to assemble in the vicinity of the boathouse from which the start was to be made; for the race was the event of the season. Every boy in town was on the spot, and the constables had to keep the crowd from actually swarming over and swamping the busy contestants and their families.

The three motor boats were ready in the water, with burgees flying and looking as spic and span as human energy could make them. The silver trophy was in the possession of Jack's father, and had been admired by hundreds.

As the time set for the start approached, the six boys manifested considerable nervousness. But this might be expected even of old campaigners, not to speak of young lads who, up to now, had possibly never been more than one or two hundred miles away from home.

Jack was really in command, since he had been elected commodore of the club by unanimous vote. He seemed capable of keeping his head in a time of excitement, and that meant a great deal.

Everything had been attended to so far as he knew, and they were now only waiting for the town clock to boom out the hour of eight, when the starting toot of his conch shell horn would announce that the race was on.

It was a foregone conclusion that the speed boat would easily take the lead, for almost everything had been sacrificed in her construction to the one prime necessity for reeling off the miles. Nick was quivering all over with anxiety. He might have backed out only that he chanced to have a stubborn streak in his make-up, and his word had been given. But he certainly looked far from happy as he faced the gloomy prospect of days and days cooped up in that cranky craft, where the least movement abroad [Transcriber's note: aboard?] set up a dizzy wabbling.

"Got your hair parted exactly in the middle, Buster?" shouted a comrade from the crowd, noting how the fat boy gripped the sides of the boat every time the pilot made a sudden little movement that caused the touchy Wireless to bob or roll.

"Better take a teenty more breath in that right lung, Hippo!" called another, with cruel intent; but Nick only grinned, and waved his hand, as though utterly indifferent to their jibes.

Jack looked at his little dollar nickel watch for the last time.

"Five minutes more only, fellows!" he announced. "Get aboard, all!"

Presently they were settled in their places, and the engines had been started to make sure everything was right for the word "go!"

Then the plain sound of the clock in the town hall came to their