seen again.

However he had many other things to think of, and could not spend any
time in crying over spilt milk. Nothing they could do would mend
matters so far as saving the French home was concerned; and they had
enough to do in looking out for their own safety.

"If you get tired, let some of the rest of us spell you, boys," Max was
saying to the pair of rowers, who had all they could do to stem the
furious current that every now and then caught them in a pocket, from
which they could only drag the boat by desperate labor; "I'm a good
hand with the oar, and I know Shack is a regular crackerjack at the
business. Just say the word when you get played out, and we'll change
places with you."

Shack shot him a grateful look. It seemed as though he appreciated
what Max had said, and which seemed to place him on the same level as
the rest of the fellows. Somehow Shack was feeling differently from
any time in the past; why, all this business of getting soaked through,
and battling with the flood was in the nature of a picnic to him,
accustomed to rubbing up against hard knocks as he was. And it felt
pretty nice to be looked on as a "comrade" by these fellows whom he had
always fought tooth and nail in the past; much nicer than loafing with
that old crowd once led by Ted Shatter but now under the guidance of
Ossie Kemp.

They had struck another bad place in the flood, where cross currents
made it difficult work rowing. Both boys strained themselves to the
utmost to resist the grip of the stream. Once across this section, and
possibly they would have it easier all the way to the shore.

Steve was working with his accustomed fits and starts. He would allow
things to go against him, for a short interval, and then throwing on
all his reserve power into the breach make his oar fairly bend with the
furious strain he put upon it.

Suddenly there was a sharp snap. One of the girls gave a cry; it was
Bessie, for she had been watching Steve at the time, and saw instantly
what had happened.

Indeed, it was manifest to every one, because Steve almost took a
"crab" by falling backwards. His sudden splurge had been too much for
the strength of the oar he was handling; and it had broken in two!

The catastrophe staggered them all for the moment; because they could
readily understand what it would mean; since with but one oar they
could hardly expect to continue rowing the boat to the shore, still
some little distance a