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From Dave back to Dick all six bent their full strength and wind to the task of making the "Scalp-hunter" dart over the water. It was a grueling, killing pace that Dick had set for his crew, but it did not need to last long. The finish line was close at hand. Hartwell saw the "Scalp-hunter's prow steal up on a level with the centre of his own canoe.
But the sort of interest that is felt even in the scalp-hunter and the cannibal, the torturer and the devil-worshipper, that sort of interest has never been felt in the Englishman. And this is the more extraordinary because the Englishman is really very interesting. He is interesting in a special degree in this special manner; he is interesting because he is individual.
From the judges' launch, as soon as the din had died down a bit, came the announcement through a megaphone: "Gridley High School wins by three quarters of a length." Dick heard the news, then ordered quietly: "Paddle -easily." A turn of his own blade swung the prow around so that the "Scalp-hunter" glided in toward the hotel landing float.
Just as soon as we receive sanction from our Athletic Council we'll give you a race in earnest, and a chance for all the glory you are able to take away from us." There was some further good-natured talk, after which the two canoe clubs separated. Dick guided the "Scalp-hunter" back to camp.
They did such enormous damage amongst cattle that a reward of as high as thirty dollars per scalp was frequently offered for them, something less for the pups. The finding of a nest with a litter of perhaps six to eight young ones meant considerable money to the scalp-hunter.
They had met defeat -a thing they didn't relish. Yet they knew, in advance, how much worse they would feel if they met a defeat when officially entered as a Gridley High School crew -for the honor of their school was dear to them all. The noonday meal was over before one o'clock. Dick would not allow the "Scalp-hunter" to be put in the water a minute before two.
As the "Scalp-hunter" swung around the upper buoy and headed down the course she had a lead of a clean two lengths over the Trentville High School canoe. There was a larger crowd on the lake to-day and more steam and gasoline craft were out. As Dick & Co. shot down the line, still leading, steam and pneumatic whistles broke forth into a noisy din.
Perspiration from extreme nervousness broke out on his forehead. Strive as he would, the crew captain of the Gridleys could not shake off the gloomy depression that assailed him. Something was wrong -radically wrong! The "Scalp-hunter" was not showing a winning gait! "Best speed -and work, fellows!" called Dick, as quietly as ever, though in his voice there was a note almost of despair.
"Into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!" called Big Chief Prescott firmly. Away went the Gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly. "Our craft is the 'Pathfinder'," called Hartwell, across the water. "What do you call your boat?" "The 'Scalp-hunter'," smiled Dick. As a matter of fact he and his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the name on the spur of the moment.
The presidios were repaired and garrisoned with more efficient troops, and a band of rangers organised, whose pay was proportioned to the number of scalps they might send back to the settlements. "I was offered the command of this strange guerilla; and in the hope that I might yet recover my child, I accepted it I became a scalp-hunter.
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