The chugging of many motors—­ the churning to foam of the blue waters of the lake—­ a haze of acrid smoke hanging over all, as some cylinder did not properly digest the gasoline vapor and oil fed to it, but sent it out half consumed—­ spray thrown up now and then—­ the distant sound of a band—­ eager eyes looking toward the stake buoys—­ tense breathing—­ all this went to make up the race in which our outdoor girls were taking part.

Foot by foot the Gem crept up on the Bug, which was the name of the foremost boat.  Drop by drop Betty fed more gasoline to her striving motor.  The other girls did their duty, if it was only encouragement.  Those in the Bug worked desperately, but it was not to be.  The Gem passed them.

“We’re sorry!” called Betty, as she flashed by.  The other girls smiled bravely.

The Gem was now first, but the race was far from won.  They were on the last leg, however, but in the rear, coming on, and overhauling Betty and her chums as they had just overhauled the others, was the speedy Eagle.  She had been last to get off, but had passed all the others.

“They are after us,” spoke Mollie, as she held the wheel a moment while Betty tucked under her natty yachting cap some wind-tossed locks of hair.

“But they shan’t get us,” declared the Little Captain grimly.  “We haven’t reached our limit yet.”

Once more she gave more gasoline, but the rivals in the rear were settling down now to win the race for themselves.  The Eagle came on rapidly.  The finish line was near at hand, but it seemed that Betty and her chums had the upper hand.

Suddenly Grace cried: 

“One of the wires is broken.  It’s snapped in two, and it’s spouting sparks!”

There came a noticeable slowing down to the speed of the motor.  The Gem lagged.  The Eagle was in hot pursuit.  Betty acted quickly.

“Put on those rubber gloves!” she ordered.  “Take a pair of pliers, and hold the ends of that wire together.  That will make it as good as mended until after the race.  Amy, you help.  But wear rubber gloves, and then you won’t get a shock.  Quick, girls!”

The breaking of the wire threw one cylinder out of commission.  The Gem was one third crippled.  There came a murmur from the pursuing boat.  There was a commotion in the forward engine compartment of Betty’s boat.  This was caused by Grace and Amy seeking to repair the damage.

A moment later the resumption of the staccato exhaust of the motor told that the break had been repaired—­ temporarily, at least.  The boat shot ahead again, at her former speed, and only just in time, for her rival was now on even terms with her.

“Oh, Betty, we can’t do it!” Mollie said, pathetically.  “We’re going to lose!”

“We are not!  I’ve got another notch I can slip forward the gasoline throttle, and here it goes!  If that doesn’t push us ahead nothing will—­ and——­ "

“We don’t get that cut glass,” finished Mollie.