“I don’t know, certainly,” one of the Carters answered; “but I suppose he thinks his boat can go faster before the wind than the _Wave_ can, and he is counting on getting a long lead on her before he turns to go back. There is much more room up there, and the opportunities for dodging are about twice as good.” “Why didn’t _we_ think of that, Gus?” whispered the other Carter. “We were too anxious to show what smart sailors we were, to think of anything!” answered his brother, ruefully. Beyond the island the _Rover_ gained rapidly; but as soon as she turned and began beating homeward, the _Wave_ showed that tacking was her strong point and began, in turn, to make up all the advantage the _Rover_ had gained. The _Rover’s_ pirate-king cast a troubled eye at the distant goal and at the slowly but steadily advancing _Wave_. His younger brother noticed the look. “If one could only _do_ something,” he exclaimed, impatiently. “That’s the worst of sailing races. In a rowing race you can pull till you break your back, if you want to; but here you must just sit still and watch the other fellow creep up, inch by inch, without doing anything to help yourself. If I could only get out and push, or pole! It’s this trying to keep still that drives me crazy.” “I think we’d better go about now,” said the commander, quietly, “and instead of going about again when we are off the bar, I intend to try to cross it.” “What!” gasped the younger Prescott, “go across the bar at low water? You can’t do it. We’ll stick sure. Don’t try it. Don’t think of it!” “It is rather a forlorn hope, I know,” said his brother; “but you can see, yourself, they’re bound to overhaul us if we keep on--we don’t draw as much water as they do, and if they try to follow us we’ll leave them high and dry on the bar.” The island stood in the centre of the river, separated from the shore on one side by the channel, through which both boats had already passed, and on the other by a narrow stretch of water which barely covered the bar the _Rover_ purposed to cross. When she pointed for it, the _Wave_ promptly gave up chasing her, and made for the channel with the intention of heading her off on the other side of the island in the event of her crossing the bar. “She’s turned back!” exclaimed the captain of the _Rover_. “Now if we can only clear it, we’ll have a beautiful start on her. Sit perfectly still, and if you hear her centre-board scrape, pull it up, and trim her to keep her keel level.” Slowly the _Rover_ drifted toward the bar; once her centre-board touched, and as the boat moved further into the shallow water the waves rose higher in proportion at the stern. But her keel did not touch, and as soon as the dark water showed again, her crew gave an exultant shout and pointed her bow toward the Chadwick dock, whence a welcoming cheer came faintly over the mile of water.