CHAPTER 11 A QUESTION OF RULES

“Quick!” Sally cried, remaining at the tiller of the Cat’s Paw. “The life preserver!”

Finding one under the seat, Penny took careful aim and hurled it in a high arc over the span of water. The throw was nearly perfect and the life preserver plopped heavily on the surface not two feet from the struggling girl. But she was too panic-stricken to reach out and grasp it.

The river current carried the preserver downstream. Sally knew then that to save the girl she must turn aside and abandon the race.

“Coming about!” she called sharply to warn Penny of the swinging boom.

Already beyond the girl, whose struggles were becoming weaker, they turned and sailed directly toward her. Penny kicked off her shoes, and before Sally could protest, dived over the gunwale.

A half dozen long strokes carried her directly behind the struggling girl. Hooking a hand beneath her chin, she pulled her into a firm, safe hold, then towed her to the Cat’s Paw where Sally helped them both aboard.

Throughout the rescue, the other two children had clung to the overturned canoe. Sally saw that they were in no danger, for a motorboat from shore was plowing swiftly to the rescue. Standing by until the two were taken safely aboard, she then glanced toward the fleet of racing boats.

Nearly all of them had passed the Cat’s Paw and were well on their way toward the second marker. The Spindrift led the field.

“We’re out of the race,” she said dismally.

“No! Don’t give up!” Penny pleaded. “You still may have a chance. This girl is all right. I’ll look after her while you sail.”

Sally remained unconvinced. “We couldn’t possibly overtake Jack now.”

“But we do have a chance to come in among the five leaders! Then you would be able to race in the finals. You wouldn’t lose the lantern trophy.”

Sparkle came into Sally’s eyes again. Her lips drew into a tight, determined line.

“All right, we’ll keep on!” she decided. “But it will be nip and tuck to win even fifth place. See what you can do for our passenger.”

The girl who had been hauled aboard was not more than thirteen years old. Although conscious, she had swallowed considerable water and was dazed from the experience. As she began to stir, Penny knelt beside her.

“Lie still,” she said soothingly. “We’ll have you at the dock soon.”

Stripping off her own jacket, Penny tucked it about the shivering child.

“We’re balanced badly,” Sally commented, her eyes on the line of boats far ahead, “and overloaded too. It’s foolish to try—”

“No, it isn’t!” Penny said firmly. “We’re sailing great guns, Sally! Look at the water boiling behind our rudder.”

Almost as if it were driven by a motor, the Cat’s Paw plowed through the waves, leaving a trail of foam and bubbles in her wake. Despite the handicap of an extra passenger, the boat was gaining on the contestants ahead.

“If only the course were longer!” Sally murmured, straining against the pull of the main sheet.

They rounded the second marker only a few feet behind a group of bunched boats. One by one they passed them until only seven remained ahead. But with the finish line close by, they could not seem to gain another inch.

“We can’t make it,” Sally said, turning to gaze at the shore with its crowd of excited spectators. “We’re bound to finish seventh or eighth, out of the race.”

“We’re still footing faster than the other boats,” Penny observed. “Don’t give up yet.”

A moment later, the crack of a revolver sounding over the water, told the girls that the Spindrift had crossed the finish line in first place.

To add to Sally’s difficulties, the rescued girl began to stir and rock the boat. Each time she moved, the Cat’s Paw lost pace. Though they passed the next two boats, they could not gain to any extent on the one which seemed destined to finish in fifth place.

Sally had been right, Penny realized. Barring a miracle, the Cat’s Paw could not be among the winners. Although they were slowly gaining, the finish line was too close for them to overcome the lead of the remaining boats.

And then the miracle occurred. The Elf, directly ahead, seemed to falter and to turn slightly aside. The Cat’s Paw seized the chance and forged even.

“Go to it, Sally!” her skipper, Tom Evans, a freckled youth, called. “You belong in the finals!”

Then the girls understood and were grateful. Deliberately, the boy had slowed his boat so that Sally might be among the winners.

“It was a fine thing to do!” Sally whispered. “But how I hate to win in such fashion!”

“Tom Evans knew he had no chance in the finals,” Penny said. “As he said, you belong there for you are one of the best sailors in the fleet.”

Sally crossed the finish line in fifth place, then sailed on to the dock by the clubhouse. As Penny leaped out to make the boat fast, willing hands assisted with the bedraggled passenger. The child was taken to the clubhouse for a change of clothes. Officials gathered about Penny and Sally, congratulating them upon the race.

“I didn’t really win,” the latter said, paying tribute to Tom Evans. “The Elf deliberately turned aside to give me a chance to pass.”

Nearby, Jack Gandiss who had won the race, stood unnoticed. After awhile he walked over to the dock where Sally and Penny were collecting their belongings.

“That was a nice rescue,” he said diffidently. “Of course it cost you second place, which was a pity.”

Sally cocked an eyebrow. “Second place?” she repeated. “Well, I like that!”

“You never could have defeated the Spindrift.”

“No? Well, if my memory serves me right, the Cat’s Paw was leading when I had to turn aside. Not that I wasn’t glad to do it.”

“You may have been ahead, but I was coming up fast. I would have overtaken you at the second marker or sooner.”

“Children! Children!” interposed Penny as she neatly folded a sail and slipped it into a snowy white cover. “Must you always claw at each other?”

“Why, we aren’t fighting,” Sally denied with a grin.

“Heck, no!” Jack agreed. He started away, then turned and came back. “By the way, Sally. How about the trophy?”

Sally did not understand what he meant.

“I won the race, so doesn’t the brass lantern belong to me?” Jack pursued the subject.

“Well, it will if you win the final next week.”

“That’s in the bag.”

“Like fun it is!” Sally said indignantly. “Jack, I hate to crush those delicate feelings of yours, but you’re due for the worst defeat of your life!”

The argument might have started anew, but Jack reverted to the matter of the lantern trophy.

“I’m the winner now, and it should be turned over to me,” he insisted.

Sally became annoyed. “That’s not according to the rules of the competition,” she returned. “The regulations governing the race say that the final winner is entitled to keep the trophy. I was last year’s winner. The one this season hasn’t yet been determined.”

“It’s not safe to keep the lantern aboard the River Queen.”

“Don’t be silly! There couldn’t be a safer place! Pop and I chained the trophy to a beam. It can’t be removed without cutting the chain.”

“Someone could take the trophy by unlocking the padlock.”

“Oh, no, they couldn’t,” Sally grinned provokingly. “You see, I’ve already lost the key. The only way that lantern can be removed is by cutting the chain.”

Jack was enraged. “You’ve lost the key?” he demanded. “If that isn’t the last straw!”

Hanson Brown, chairman of the racing committee, chanced to be passing, and Jack impulsively hailed him. To the chagrin of the girls, he asked for a ruling on the matter of the trophy’s possession.

“Why, I don’t recall that such a question ever came up before,” the official replied. “My judgment is that Miss Barker has a right to retain the trophy until the final race.”

“Ha!” chuckled Sally, enjoying Jack’s discomfiture. “How do you like that?”

Jack turned to leave. But he could not refrain from one parting shot. “All right,” he said, “you get to keep the trophy, but mind—if anything should happen to it—you alone will be responsible!”