"Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!"

It was Tubby giving utterance triumphantly to the Eagle scream.

Jack Curtiss straightened up angrily as he heard, his face black and greasy from his researches into the engine. He shook a menacing fist at the others as they tore by. The next minute, however, a quick look back by Rob showed that the hydroplane was coming ahead again, and that the engine trouble, whatever it was, had been adjusted.

As they neared the turning point, Rob saw, to his dismay, that the hydroplane was creeping up faster and faster. It was the last lap, and if Sam Redding's boat pa.s.sed them at the stake the race was as good as over.

"Come on, Flying Fish! Come on!" shouted Rob, as the hydroplane crept ever nearer and nearer to his boat's stern.

Rob noticed, as he swung a trifle wide of the stake raft, that it seemed to be the intention of Jack Curtiss, who was at the wheel, to swing the hydroplane round the sharp angle of the course inside of the Flying Fish. Guessing that this would mean disaster to her ill-advised occupants, he waved his hand at them to keep out.

"When we need your advice we'll send for it. This is the time we've got you!" yelled Jack Curtiss, bending low over his wheel, as he grazed by the Flying Fish's stern to take the inside course.

At the same instant, so quickly that the boys did not even get a mental picture of it, the hydroplane overturned.

Taking the curve at such a speed and at such a sharp angle had, as Jack had surmised, proved too much for her stability. Her occupants were pitched struggling into the water.

"Shall we pick them up?" yelled Merritt.

"No," shouted Rob; "they've all got life belts on. A launch from the club will get them."

Indeed, as he spoke a launch was seen putting off to the rescue. The accident had been witnessed from the club, and as the water was warm, the boys were satisfied that no harm would come to the three from their immersion.

But the delay almost proved fatal to the Flying Fish's chance of winning. Close behind her now came creeping up the speedy Albacore.

But a few hundred feet before the finish the Flying Fish darted ahead once more, and shook off her opponent amid a great roar of yells and whoops and cheers. An instant later she shot across the line--a winner.

"Bang!" went the gun, in token that the race was finished.

"I congratulate you," said Commodore Wingate, as the boys brought their craft up to the float. "It was a well-fought race."

And now came the captains of the Albacore, Snark and Bonita.

"You won the race fairly and squarely," said the former, shaking Rob's hand. "I presume, commodore, the time was taken?"

"It has been," replied that official. "The Flying Fish wins by one minute and four and seven hundredths seconds."

More cheers greeted this announcement, mingled with laughter and some sympathy, as the club launch, towing the capsized hydroplane, puffed up to the float. From the launch emerged three crestfallen figures with dripping garments. But wet as he was, Jack Curtiss was not going to surrender the race without a protest.

"A foul! We claim a foul! The Flying Fish fouled us!" he shouted.

"My dear young man," calmly replied the commodore, "I was watching you every foot of the way through binoculars, and I should rather say that you fouled the Flying Fish. Anyhow, you should have better sense than to try to shave round that turn so closely."

More mortified, and angrier than ever, Jack strode off to put on dry clothes, followed by his equally chagrined companions, who, however, had sense enough now not to make any protests. They knew well enough that Jack, in his hurry to grab the prize, had attempted a foolish and dangerous thing which had cost them the race.

"A great race, a great race," said Mr. Blake, as the boys, followed by the crowd, entered the club house, where the awards were to be distributed. "You boys certainly covered yourselves with glory," he went on.

"Yes, and here is your reward. I hope it will stimulate you to put up a fine defense for it next year," said Commodore Wingate, handing to the elated boys a fine engraved silver cup, the trophy of the Hampton Yacht Club.

"Get up and make a speech!" shouted some one.

The boys felt inclined to run for it.

"Go ahead! Make some sort of a talk," urged Rob, helping Tubby on to the platform from which the prizes had been handed out.

"Ladies and gentlemen," puffed the stout youth, "we want to thank you for your congratulations and thank the club for the fine cup.

Er--er--er--we thank you."

And having made what was perhaps quite as good a speech as some of his elders', Tubby stepped down amid loud and prolonged cheering.

Up in the dressing room Jack and his cronies, changing into other, garments, heard the sounds of applause.

"It's high time something was done," said Bill, as he gazed from a window at several of the yacht club attendants bailing out the unlucky hydroplane. "Those young beggars will be owning the town next."

CHAPTER XIV

THE EAGLES IN CAMP

The next few days were full of excitement and preparation for the Boy Scouts. Their headquarters resounded all day to the tramp of feet, and the Manual of Instructions was consulted day and night. The official tents had arrived, and every boy in the Patrol was eager for the time to arrive to put them up. So much so that two or three confessed that they could hardly sleep at night in their impatience for the hour when the embarkation for Topsail Island was to take place.

Besides the tents, there was much other equipment to be overhauled and set in order, for, before their departure, the boys were to be reviewed by their scout master and a field secretary from New York. There were haversack straps to be replaced, laces mended, axes sharpened, "Billys"

polished and made to shine like new tin, and a hundred and one things to be done. At last, however--although it seemed that it would never come--the eventful Monday arrived, as eventful days of all kinds have a habit of doing; and the Eagle Patrol, spick and span and shining from tan boots to campaign hats, fell in line behind the band. Proudly they paraded up the street, with their green and black Eagle Patrol sign fluttering gallantly in the van.

The "reviewing stand" was the post-office steps, around which most of the citizens of Hampton and the proud parents and relatives of the young scouts were a.s.sembled.

Plenty of applause greeted them, as, in response to Rob's orders, given in the sharp, military manner, they drew up in line and gave the Boy Scout's salute. This done, the young scouts went through a smart drill with the staffs they carried. Then, after saluting once more, and being warmly complimented on their appearance by the field secretary, they marched off to the wharf where they were to embark for their camp.

The day before Merritt, Hiram Nelson, Paul Perkins and the three "tender feet"--Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby--had been told off by Rob as on "pioneer service"; that is to say, that they had gone down to the island in the Flying Fish. Arrived there, they selected a good spot for the camp, aided by Commodore Wingate's and Captain Hudgins' suggestions, and set up the tents and made the other necessary preparations. The camp was therefore practically ready, for the "army" to move into.

At Tubby's special request, a list of the rations for the week's camp had been made out by Rob and affixed to the bulletin board in the headquarters of the Eagles. As perhaps some of my young readers may care to know what to take on a similar expedition, is the list, exclusive of meat, which was to be brought from the mainland, and fish, which they expected to catch themselves:

Oatmeal, 8 lbs.; rice, 4 lbs.; crackers, 35 lbs.; chocolate, 1 1-2 lbs.; tea, 3 lbs; coffee, 1 lb.; lard, 6 lbs.; sugar, 8 lbs.; condensed milk, 10 cans; b.u.t.ter, 4 lbs.; eggs, 12 dozen; bacon, 20 lbs.; preserves, 14 jars; prunes, 8 lbs.; maple syrup and mola.s.ses, 4 quarts; potatoes, 1 bushel; white beans, 6 quarts; canned corn, 6 tins; canned tomatoes, 6 tins; flour, 35 lbs.; baking powder, 2 lbs.; salt, 4 lbs.; pepper, 2 ounces.

"Well," Tubby had remarked, as he gazed attentively at the list, "we won't starve, anyhow."

"I should say not," laughed Rob; "and besides all that, I've got lots of lines and squids, and the blues and mackerel are running good."

"Can't I take along my twenty-two rifle--that island's just swarming with rabbits, and I think I heard some quail when we were there the other day," pleaded Merritt.

"Not in season," answered Rob laconically. "Laws not up on them till November."

"Oh, bother the law!" blurted out Merritt. "However, I suppose if there wasn't one there wouldn't be any rabbits left."

"I guess you're right," agreed Tubby. "Still, it does seem hard to have to look at them skip about and not be able to take a shot at them."