"A race?" chuckled Dave. "Queer how you've bit us where we live!" "Do you think you can beat us in a canoe race?" asked Hartwell. "Yes," Dick rejoined. "All we need to arrange is the date. We'll beat you on any date that you name! That isn't brag, please understand! It's merely the old, old Gridley High School way." The young ladies applauded this sentiment merrily. CHAPTER XVI A SCALP-HUNTING DISAPPOINTMENT "Want to try us out, Gridley?" hailed Big Chief Hartwell, from the Preston High School canoe. It was nearly ten o'clock the next morning, but Dick & Co. had just finished putting their camp to rights after breakfast, for they had slept late after the feast. "Do we want to try you out?" Dick answered laughingly. "Why, we don't have to do that. We shall be ready to hand you a beating, though, at any time you ask for it. We can't help beating you, you know. It's the Gridley way!" "Brag is a good dog," derided Brown from the bow seat of the Preston canoe. "We keep both dogs here," Dave shouted tantalizingly. "Are you coming out to wallop us?" Hartwell insisted. "Yes; if you insist upon it," Dick agreed. "But we don't like to do it." "Get into your canoe and come out and see how much of your brag you can make good," was Hartwell's calm reply. "What? Now?" Prescott inquired. "'Now' is always the best time to do a thing," declared Mason, of Preston High School. "Oh, no," smiled Dick, with a shake of his head. "You fellows have been out for some time this morning. You'll have to give us time to warm up properly." "I didn't suppose Gridley needed a little thing like that," Hartwell taunted. "You Gridleyites are such sure winners, you know, that you ought not to need such a little thing as preparation." "One of the reasons why Gridley wins," Dick retorted, "is that we always use common sense when entering sporting events. So we'll ask you to oblige us with a gift of our rights in the matter. In fifteen minutes we'll be ready for you." Gently the canoe was launched in the water. Harry, with a remembrance of yesterday's events, called Towser, saying sternly: "Stay right here, boy, and watch. Maybe you'll get the rest of Rip's shirt to-day." "And maybe he won't," chuckled Dave. "That's what I call holding out false hopes to a dog. Rip won't venture within five miles of here to-day. Yet perhaps Towser will bag some other game for us." "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. It made a prompt hit with his chums. "You don't believe you can win any race with such paddling as yours, do you?" Hartwell called derisively.