“We’ll work hard to-morrow,” Dick agreed, “but after that we will have to be satisfied with what we’ve done.  Saturday morning we don’t want to do any hard work.  Just enough exercise to keep our muscles supple for the real fray of the afternoon.”

“We ought to stay out longer now,” urged Hazelton.

“Do you fellows think so?” asked Dick thoughtfully.  “It seems to me that we’ve done enough hard canoe work for to-day.  We don’t want to go stale from too much training.”

“But we can’t—–­we mustn’t lose the race on Saturday,” almost groaned Dave Darrin.

“Then we’ll do better not to overtrain,” said Dick quietly.  “Unless I hear a big kick I’m going to turn the canoe toward our camp.”

There was no objection, though some of the members of Dick & Co. frowned slightly.  They had great confidence in Dick’s judgment, yet he seemed to them over cautious in training.

“I wish it were Saturday night,” murmured Tom Reade, lying on the grass full length, after they had landed.

“So that you’d know how it feels to be licked and to have your school licked, too?” inquired Danny Grin.

“Stop that talk!” ordered Tom gruffly.  “We’re not going to be beaten.  We’d hardly dare show our faces again in Gridley if Preston High School took us into camp.”

“Then how will the Preston fellows feel if we distance ’em?” Greg inquired.

“Oh, it won’t matter as much over at Preston,” Tom replied coolly.  “Preston hasn’t such a big reputation for winning athletic events as Gridley has.”

“The more I think of it,” muttered Dave, “the more I marvel at our cheek.  We are barely more than freshmen.  As yet we’ve entered the sophomore class only by promotion.  Yet we get away from home and immediately start in to fight under the Gridley colors, just as though we were real juniors or seniors!  My, but I’ll hate myself if we get walloped Saturday afternoon!”

“We’d all dislike ourselves,” smiled Dick Prescott calmly.  “That is why we haven’t any thought of allowing ourselves to be beaten, either by Preston or Trentville.”

“I wonder if Trentville is as good as Preston?” asked Tom curiously.

“We can’t tell until we see them work,” suggested Greg.

“Who’s going to eat, and when?” asked Dan.  That started the crowd to making preparations for the camp supper.  It was prepared in good time, and six healthy boys sat down to enjoy it.  After that came a period of blissful idleness.  Then, more or less reluctantly, the youngsters set about washing the dishes and setting the camp straight in general.

“Better throw some wood on the fire; it’s getting pretty dark,” suggested Dick.  “I’ll get the lantern and light it.”

Gr-r-r-r-r! came the voice of Towser, in the near distance.  It was followed by barks and yelps, all in the voice of Hazelton’s bull-dog.

“What trouble has the pup gotten into?” demanded Harry, throwing an armful of wood on the campfire, then wheeling sharply.