“Are you coming out to wallop us?” Hartwell insisted.

“Yes; if you insist upon it,” Dick agreed.  “But we don’t like to do it.”

“Get into your canoe and come out and see how much of your brag you can make good,” was Hartwell’s calm reply.

“What?  Now?” Prescott inquired.

“‘Now’ is always the best time to do a thing,” declared Mason, of Preston High School.

“Oh, no,” smiled Dick, with a shake of his head.  “You fellows have been out for some time this morning.  You’ll have to give us time to warm up properly.”

“I didn’t suppose Gridley needed a little thing like that,” Hartwell taunted.  “You Gridleyites are such sure winners, you know, that you ought not to need such a little thing as preparation.”

“One of the reasons why Gridley wins,” Dick retorted, “is that we always use common sense when entering sporting events.  So we’ll ask you to oblige us with a gift of our rights in the matter.  In fifteen minutes we’ll be ready for you.”

Gently the canoe was launched in the water.  Harry, with a remembrance of yesterday’s events, called Towser, saying sternly: 

“Stay right here, boy, and watch.  Maybe you’ll get the rest of Rip’s shirt to-day.”

“And maybe he won’t,” chuckled Dave.  “That’s what I call holding out false hopes to a dog.  Rip won’t venture within five miles of here to-day.  Yet perhaps Towser will bag some other game for us.”

“Into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!” called Big Chief Prescott firmly.

Away went the Gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly.

“Our craft is the ’Pathfinder’,” called Hartwell, across the water.  “What do you call your boat?”

“The ’Scalp-hunter’,” smiled Dick.  As a matter of fact he and his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the name on the spur of the moment.  It made a prompt hit with his chums.

“You don’t believe you can win any race with such paddling as yours, do you?” Hartwell called derisively.

“We don’t show all our fine points to the enemy until the battle is on,” was Prescott’s amiable answer.  “Even then you won’t see all our best tricks; you’ll be too busy paddling to keep in sight of us.”

Only very gradually did Dick allow his crew to warm up to their work.  The Preston boys soon paddled over to the middle of the lake, and there lay resting.

“Now, we’ll go back and give them a brush,” Dick murmured to his chums.  “Don’t exceed any orders that I give in the brush.  Don’t be at all uneasy if we find the Prestons going ahead of us.”

“Haven’t we got to win?” queried Dave.

“Especially after all the brag we’ve been throwing in their direction?” Tom supplemented.

“We’ll win if we can do it easily,” Dick answered.  “Otherwise we won’t.”

“Then what becomes of our Gridley talk?” asked Greg.

“The difference is that this isn’t a real race to-day,” Prescott explained.  “This is only a brush, and we’re in it only to see what the Preston boys can show us about canoe handling.”