As Fred, who was at the wheel glanced along the line of the
contestants he counted ten other boats that had entered the race.
The only one of the number, however, which he feared was the
graceful little motor-boat, only a few yards distant from the
place where the Black Growler was resting.
There was no conversation on the boat. The faces of all the Go
Ahead boys were tense and drawn and apparently all were unaware
of the noise and the presence of the hundreds of interested
spectators.
Sam, though he was silent, was not idle. Every minute he was
either looking into the machinery or rubbing it with the cloth
which he continually held.
"It's time for that gun," said Fred in a low voice.
Every one was watching the face of the little clock on board and
as the seconds slowly passed, the boys did not even glance at one
another.
In spite of the fact that everything had been done in their power
to prepare the Black Growler for the race, the boys were fearful
that something had been omitted or overlooked in their
preparations.
A silence so tense that it was almost possible to feel it had
settled over the region. Even the judges seemed to share in the
excitement of the spectators.
The long stillness was broken by the report of the gun.
Instantly every one of the boats on the line started forward.
The Varmint II, and the Black Growler, as we know, were close
together and it was speedily evident that the expectations of the
assembly were that the former was to be the winner of the race.
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