"Oh, it's all in the game!" laughed Bess. Certainly her nerves seemed all right now.

The young man--he had refrained from giving his name, either by accident or design--had been bending over his motor during the whispered talk among the girls. Now he looked up again.

"Well," he asked, pleasantly, "is it to be a race?"

"If you like," answered Cora, calmly.

"I certainly do like. I'm going to enter some of the Bayhead races, and I'd like to see how my boat will go."

"But it's a lighter boat than ours," returned Cora, who was not willing to give nor take an unfair advantage. "And we have five pa.s.sengers."

"I've thought of that," the young man went on. "I'm willing to accept a handicap. I'll drop back about five hundred feet and allow you that much."

"That would be fair," a.s.sented Cora, who, from having taken part in various races knew what would be about right.

"Then here goes!" cried the stranger, as he throttled down his motor.

"I'll give you a hail when I'm coming on."

The _Chelton_ at once began drawing away from the _Pickerel_, which was the name of the stranger's boat.

This craft, it seemed, had a clutch arrangement, so that the motor could be allowed to run without the propeller revolving. Cora's boat was likewise equipped.

"Are you going to beat him?" asked Lottie, as she moved back where no drop of spray could spot her blue dress.

"I am certainly going to try," said Cora with a smile. "What does a race amount to if you don't try to win?"

"Oh, of course, but then I thought this was only in fun."

"It's a race for keeps," announced Cora. "And I think we'll win. That last gasoline we got is the best we ever had. It gives us more power, and the _Chelton_ is running like a sewing machine, as Jack says. I think we're going to win!"

She opened the throttle a little wider and the _Chelton_ responded instantly.

A moment later there came a hail from the rear.

"Distance enough! I'm coming!"

Cora glanced back.

"He certainly was generous," she said. "That's a good five hundred feet."

"He looks like a generous chap," murmured Lottie. She was again polishing her nails. Possibly she thought she might be introduced to the stranger, later on.

There was the sound of a louder exhaust from the boat astern. The young man evidently was going to try his best to win.

But Cora had no intention of letting him do so. She had shrewdly estimated the ability of his boat, as well as she could, though of course it was difficult, in the case of a craft she had never before seen.

"Sit on the other side; will you, Lottie dear?" asked Cora, as, grasping the steering wheel with firmer fingers she looked at the course ahead of her.

"Oh, I'm so comfortable here," objected Lottie.

"I know, but the boat isn't trimmed properly, and she can't do her best unless she is."

"Like us girls," remarked Belle. "We, too, must be properly trimmed to do our best."

"Trimmed!" exclaimed Lottie. "I don't see any frills on the _Chelton_."

"You may later, if we win the race," said Bess. "But what Cora means is that the boat isn't properly balanced. There is too much weight on the starboard side."

"Oh, then I'm on the starboard side," said Lottie.

"Yes, or on the right, according to the new navy rules," agreed Cora.

"But, really, someone must shift."

"But if I go over there I'm afraid the spray will get on my dress,"

objected Lottie. "And it spots terribly, especially with salt water."

"I'll change over," said Marita. "I don't mind if my dress does get wet."

"You're a dear," sighed Lottie, as she settled back among the cushions.

"And you're a bit selfish," thought Cora.

The _Chelton_, now in better trim, skimmed over the bay. Behind her came the _Pickerel_. And, as Cora looked back she noted that the young man's craft was slowly overtaking her.

"He has more speed than I thought he had," she mused.

Foot by foot the young man urged his boat onward. Clearly he was not of that false chivalrous type that permits a lady to win whether she has the ability or not. To a really athletic girl, pitted against a man in an equal contest, nothing is more humiliating than to realize that her opponent is not putting forth all his powers. There are some men who will never try too hard to win from a woman. This stranger was evidently not of that type, and Cora valued him accordingly.

"Can you get up any more speed?" asked Belle, anxiously.

"I've got a bit left," said Cora, as she opened the throttle a little wider. "And I think I'll need it," she added.

"He certainly is coming on," added Belle in a low voice. "Are we getting too near the rocks, Cora?"

"No, it's safe so far. But I think I'll go out a bit. I want to win this race."

CHAPTER XVIII

MORE SUSPICIONS

Cora Kimball well knew the capabilities of the _Chelton_. She had steered other motor craft in many races, and was aware, almost to a revolution, just how much speed was available in a boat of this kind.

And while she did not know what the rival boat could do, she was too expert at water sports to use up her last reserve of speed.

So, even while she watched the other boat creep up on her, she did not open the throttle to its fullest extent, nor did she advance the timer, which controlled the spark, to the limit.