With his companions lying flat or doubled up and screaming
so that the woods along shore echoed with their insane mirth, our hero
stood amid the chaos, shouting to the racers at the top of his voice.
They were almost abreast of him now, and laughing themselves, for the
race had become a farce.
"Come on! Keep it up!" he shouted. "You can go around it while it's
sailing just as good as if it were standing still! The race kind of
stretches out like an elastic--it's an extensible race. Keep it up!
Keep it up!"
"Don't," moaned Townsend from his place on the ground. "This is too
much----"
"It isn't enough!" Pee-wee shouted. "The race is better because it's
longer--it stretches out--it's an extensible race--I invented it----"
"What on earth is the cause of it?" laughed one of the girls.
"Extra--extra--ex--ex--ex--extra high tide caused by the r--r--rain,"
shrieked Townsend, hardly able to get the words out. "This is the
cli--cli--climax of Eas--Eas--Easter vac--c--c--c--c--_cation_!"
Amid screams and catcalls from the shore an official launch came
chugging up the course. By that time the two canoeists had given
themselves up to laughter and sat shaking as their canoes drifted.
Only the island continued merrily upon the flood tide.
"Called off?" somebody called from the shore.
"Certainly it's called off," said the official in the launch. "This
was supposed to be a race, not a game of tag."
"_Come on_! _Come on_!" screamed Pee-wee from the departing isle.
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