In a little while the boat containing Peter was out of sight around the corner of the street. Larry thought it would be a good time to start in the right direction toward the telegraph office. Accordingly he told the man at the oars to head the craft the other way. “I’ll bet they’re up to some trick,” the man said. “The fellow rowing that boat is a foxy chap. I think he suspects something.” “Well, we’ll give him a race if we have to,” replied Larry. If Larry had not been so intent on his errand he would have been interested in the strange sights all about him. The flooded city was alive with boats rowed or being propelled in all directions. The people seemed to have gotten over their first fear, and, though there was much discomfort, they were making the best of circumstances. A large number of houses were under water to the second stories, and the families were living on the upper floors. A corps of men brought them food and supplies. Fortunately the weather was mild for November, and there was little real suffering. There was not much food, but, now that the waters had ceased rising, trains were being sent over the railroad bearing goods of various sorts for the relief of the homeless ones. On and on Larry’s boatman rowed him. It was quite a distance to the foot of the hill on which the telegraph tent was located, and progress was slow while they were threading their way in and out among the inundated streets. Care had to be taken, also, not to be struck with the floating débris that was swirling along on the current. “Look behind you,” said the boatman suddenly to Larry, who was in the stern, facing the oarsman. The boy turned. There, coming after them, as fast as the man could bend to the sweeps, was the boat containing Peter. The craft was forging through the water at a rapid pace and would be up to them in a short time. “They’re following us!” exclaimed Larry’s rower. “I guess they’ve found out where the telegraph office is,” said Larry, “and they’re going to try and get there first.” “Then it’s to be a race,” replied Tony, Larry’s man. “Well, Jim Dexter will find I’m as good a hand at the oars as he is!” With this Tony braced himself and began taking long strokes that sent the boat through the water at a good clip. “Mind where you steer now,” cautioned Tony to Larry. “Don’t run us on a log or a floating house and I’ll get you to the telegraph place first.” “I hope you do,” replied Larry, as he took a firm grasp of the rudder. “If the _Scorcher_ beats the _Leader_ I’m liable to lose my job, and so is Mr. Newton.” The other boat was almost up to them now. Larry could hear Peter urging Jim to greater exertion as the boy sat in the sternsheets and steered, as Larry was doing. “Ten dollars if you beat ’em!” Peter exclaimed as his boat crept up inch by inch, until it was almost even with Larry’s craft.