“Stop paddling!  Back water!  Stop backing!”

With deft movements of his own paddle, Dick swung the canoe in gently against the float.

Out of the boathouse near by came Bob Hartwell.

“I’ve been watching you fellows,” he called.

“That’s fair enough,” Dick answered.

“You’re doing some better than you did this morning,” Hartwell went on.  “You’ve almost got our stroke.”

“Almost?” repeated young Prescott, raising his eyebrows.  “Haven’t we improved a good deal on your Preston High School action?”

Bob Hartwell began to laugh.

“You fellows from Gridley are always world beaters, aren’t you?” he demanded good-humoredly.  “At first, I thought it was all brag on your part, and that you fellows were suffering from enlarged craniums complicated with bragitis.  But now I begin to see that you talk confidently just in order to convince yourselves that you can’t be beaten at anything.  And I don’t know that it’s such bad ‘dope,’ either, as the sporting writers put it.”

“Let’s hear you try some,” urged Dick.

“Brag?” asked Hartwell.  “No; I don’t believe I have mastered the idea well enough to do any really sincere bragging as yet.  However, if you ever beat us at anything except brag, then I’m going to try to copy your form in the boasting line.”

By this time Dick & Co. were dragging their canoe up onto the float.

“I hope Rip isn’t sneaking anywhere about these grounds,” muttered Danny Grin.

“Who’s Rip?” Bob Hartwell asked curiously.  Then:  “Oh, I beg your pardon for being too inquisitive,” as he saw Dick frown at Dalzell.

“I’m going to remain on the float, while you fellows go up into the hotel grounds,” said Tom.

“All of you go, and I’ll stay and watch your canoe,” suggested Bob Hartwell.  “That is, if you’re willing to trust me as sentry.”

“Of course we’re willing,” Dick responded.  “But it’s only right that one of our own crowd should do such work.  Are you coming up with us, Hartwell?”

“Why, yes,” Bob answered, “if I can’t be of any service to you here.”

Slowly the boys sauntered up through the walks.  Then out on the porch came Manager Wright, waving a yellow envelope.

“That’s probably the answer from the Athletic Council of Gridley High School,” Dick explained, turning to Hartwell.  “You don’t mind if I run on ahead and leave you, do you?”

“You may run on ahead and leave me if you’re as handy at running as you are at bragging,” chuckled Bob.  All of the boys in the group were soon at the porch.  Mr. Wright descended the steps to hand Dick the envelope.

Dick tore open the envelope hurriedly.

“It’s all right!” he called gleefully.  “Mr. Howgate sends this word:” 

"’Athletic Council approves and sanctions your representing Gridley High School on the water with your Canoe Club.  Wish you success!  Be careful not to risk lowering Gridley’s standard in sports through recklessness.’"