"Let's drop Buck and his ways for a while, and think of our chances with those husky Mechanicsburg chaps," observed Brad, as they came in sight of the outlying houses connected with the home town, scattered along the river front.
"Oh! I know what you mean, Brad, all right," spoke up Colon, sensitive to anything like criticism; "every one knows that I weakened toward the end, and that's what threw us out of gear. Couldn't help it, if you killed me. That little trouble I had with the river yesterday must have still bothered me. Never had such a queer feeling grip me before, and hope never to again."
"Oh! I wouldn't bother myself about that, Colon," Brad hastened to say, consolingly; "given a few days to rest, and you'll be as tough as ever. That strain was heart-breaking, and nobody could blame you for wilting under it, after what you passed through yesterday. If I'd known we were going to meet that bunch, all primed to give us a race, perhaps I'd have thought it good policy to put Joe in the crew for the run home. But it all turned out right after all."
"And we won, which was the best part of it!" crowed Corney.
"I differ with you there, Corney," declared Brad. "To me the best part of it was the game quality the whole crew showed. That was an eye-opener to me. I know now what you can stand; and next time won't be so much afraid to push you to the limit, if I feel that 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?"