every fellow is
fit."

"Another thing," remarked Fred, "that is pleasant to know, is the fact
that luck broke in our favor. It's been my experience always, in nearly
every game, when the teams are about even, that when luck takes to
turning one way, that side always wins out. Everything comes their way.
It's begun to like us, boys."

"And we sure have no kick coming," remarked Corney, with emphasis.

There were quite a few people waiting to see what was going to happen.
They had known of Buck and his outlaw crew going up the river in their
boat; and since the regular crew was expected down that afternoon, by
putting things together, they rather guessed a race might result.

Some of these people had field glasses, and from the wild way they
cheered Brad and his interested spectators of at least the conclusion
of the race; for the river ran about straight for some distance up
toward Mechanicsburg.

"Hello!" Brad called out to a party of five or crew, it might be
suspected that they had been six schoolboys who seemed to be trying to
crack their voices yelling, as they waved their hats, and one of them a
pair of glasses; "did you see us trim Buck's bunch, Lossing?"

"You just bet we did, and you showed 'em up handsomely too," came the
reply; "but what happened in their boat when they were in a dead heat
with you?"

"Why, they were a quarter of a length ahead at the time," answered
Brad, frankly. "We'd been sea-sawing it all the way down, first one
leading, then the other. All at once one of their outriggers snapped
off short, and that threw them into all sorts of confusion."

"Oh! that was it, eh? I had the glasses, but couldn't make out just
what happened. But you _did_ beat them anyhow, Brad?" called the other,
jubilantly.

"You'll hear a howl from Buck, all right, Lossing," Brad went on, as
they came in to the shore gently enough, this being their landing
place.

"Well, we reckoned on that," laughed the other. "It wouldn't be Buck
Lemington if he didn't make a kick. What was he yelling out after you,
Brad?"

"Had the nerve to say we fouled his boat, and broke that outrigger,
Lossing."

"Hasn't he the colossal nerve though?" the boy ashore shouted. "Why, I
know for a dead certainty that the boats were at least three lengths
apart at the time. That sure does make me snicker, Brad."

And before evening it might be set down as certain that two versions of
the race would be circulating all through Riverport