"He means after you step out of the boat," said Townsend. You would have thought that Pee-wee was selling desert islands out of a basket. He stood on the extreme edge nearest to the field, shouting, "Here you are, this way for your desert isle! See the tropic variations----" "He means vegetation," said Townsend. "He means fresh vegetables," called Brownie. "Here you are for your fresh vegetables," Pee-wee shouted, hardly knowing what he said at this actual prospect of business which he saw before his very eyes. "The races encircle this island. Here you are for your best seats! Come early and avoid the rush!" "That's the wild man of the island," Townsend said; "he's perfectly harmless: step right in the boat." They were rowed over and escorted to seats, where they did not have to wait long, for scarcely were they settled on one long bench when a chorus of shouts arose down at the boat-house, as out into the river shot two canoes. "Oh, they're coming! They're _coming_!" the girls carolled in great excitement and anticipation. "Oh, look! Do _look_!" one of them said, clutching the shoulder of her neighbor. "He's in the red canoe! It's Willie Dawdle, and he's ahead! _Hurrah for Edgemere_! Oh, he's _coming_, he's _coming_! I knew we'd _annihilate_ them, I just _knew_ it! Oh, it's simply _glorious_!" "Hurrah for Bridgeboro!" shouted Pee-wee. "Hurrah for Edgemere!" shouted the girls. The two canoes, with Edgemere a little ahead as well as they could see, came gliding up the river, two streaks, red and green, in the sunshine . . . CHAPTER XXIX THE RACE The canoe race, which was the first of the events, was also the best--as well as the last. Never was there wilder excitement on Pee-wee's island than when the green and red canoes glided northward, approaching the turning point. The red canoe skilfully paddled by the Edgemere champion, Willie Dawdle, was some yards ahead and gaining rapidly and the girls from Edgemere High School could not contain themselves for joy. Among the Alligator Patrol, too, the excitement ran high and shout upon shout for Bridgeboro arose as Wingate Chase spurted to get the inner turn about the island. He gained fast now and as the distance between the two canoes shortened the air was rent with deafening yells for Bridgeboro. The two contestants were abreast when suddenly amid the uproar could be heard a voice, a voice singularly matter-of-fact and sensible, uttering words which if not of excitement seemed at least pertinent to the occasion, "How are they going to go around that blamed thing when it's sailing up the river?" Alas, it was too true. The most unusual development which could possibly complicate an athletic event had occurred; the turning point had deserted the race and was sailing majestically up the river. It had already sailed a hundred feet or so before the watchers on the mainland discovered the fact.