Then----- Bang! Away shot the canoes.

Over all other sounds could be heard Dick's low-toned: "One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!" The Preston boys heard him, and Dick noted, with amusement, that they unconsciously adapted their own stroke to his count.
"Cut that numeral business," grunted Bob Hartwell, across the water.

"You're queering our fellows." "They mustn't listen to our signals," Dick laughed back.

"One, two, three, four!" "Come on, fellows; get ahead of that Gridley crowd, where we can't hear 'em," urged Hartwell.

"Hanky pank!" At that the Preston canoe managed to get a slight lead.