icy to increase the stroke, and
they were soon hitting up a lively pace. How splendidly the delicate
boat flew over the water, just for all the world as a swallow skims
along the surface of a pond! The boys were enthusiastic over their
work, and Brad did not hesitate to give them the praise they deserved.

"We'll turn here, and pull up-stream," he said, as they rested for a
few minutes. "That will come harder, and try you more. But it's all a
part of the game. Once more, now, my hearties, with a will!"

They covered the distance up to what Brad had marked as the turning
point, in better time than he had believed possible. A buoy had been
floated to serve as the upper end of the course. Rounding this they
shot down the river with tremendous velocity, as though striving for
victory on the home stretch.

For some reason Brad took them down further than before, so that they
even drew near the sharp bend before he gave the signal to stop rowing.
The boat continued to glide along with the current, though gradually
easing up.

And it was just at that moment, when the young oarsmen of Riverport
were breathing hard after their recent exertions, that they heard a
sudden crash as of splintering wood, immediately accompanied by a
conglomeration of shouts, all in the plain, unmistakable voices of
boys.

Startled, they stared at each other, as if not knowing what to make of
it; and thrilled by the knowledge that danger must be threatening some
fellows around the bend just below.

CHAPTER XVII

SNAGGED AND WRECKED

"What in the world's that?" exclaimed Dave Hanshaw.

"Sounds like some fellows might be in a pickle. Listen to 'em howl;
would you?" cried Corney Shays.

"Isn't one of the lot whooping it up for help?" asked Fred.

"You're right, Fred; and we've got to get a move on, and turn that bend
yonder, when we can see what's what. Ready, boys!" called out Brad, at
which every young oarsman dropped back into his place; for they had
been turning half around at the time, desirous of seeing what it all
meant.

"Must be that Buck Lemington bunch!" sang out Sid, who perhaps had
recognized one of the loud voices; for he and the bully of Riverport
had been in conflict so often in the last twelve years, that it would
be very strange if the excited tones of the other might not be known
when heard.

"Then it's good-bye to that old college shell," declared Corney.

"You're right," asserted Dick Hendricks; "because tha