The boys of Columbia High on the river

by Graham B. Forbes

"Glad to hear it, and I won't forget what I promised, either," returned the boy.

"Sure that wasn't naded to make us turn in to hilp. We expect to say that race pulled, ivery man of us, and we wish ye the best luck ever," was what he heard the obliging foreman say, as he vanished.

And, sure enough, when Frank issued from the building, there lay the boat, with several excited and cheering boys grouped around it, waving their caps like mad; while Helen and Minnie stood by, laughing and clapping their hands.

There was no trouble about finding recruits to carry the crated shell down to the river. All the way along the streets, shouts attested to the interest the citizens of Columbia felt in the recovery of the missing boat. Men stopped to look and ask questions, and on hearing the story, laughed, as memory, perhaps, carried them back to some similar college prank; for the boys of to-day are built on the same model of those who went to school many years ago.

And by the time the boathouse was reached, quite a mob surrounded the bearers of the wonderful eight-oared shell that had been found reposing on the roof of the sky-scraper, "looking over the course of the race, so as to get posted," as Lanky declared, when he came running up and heard the wonderful news.

Eager hands removed the crate piecemeal. Then the burlap was taken away, while a score of watchful eyes scrutinized every part of the beautifully polished surface, fearing to find that some damage had been done in all this handling. But as the last piece was cast aside a shout went up that told of relief.

"Not even a scratch!" announced Frank, hugging Buster in his gratitude, an operation which the fat student evidently hardly enjoyed, judging from the strenuous manner in which he struggled to release himself from the encircling arms.

"What d'ye take me for?" he shouted; "go and find the right one, and don't practice on me;" but in another second Buster was helping to raise a clamor such as had not been heard around the town since Columbia took that last hotly-contested game from Bellport in the three-school baseball league.

"Let's launch her, fellows," advocated one eager member of the crew.

And so the boat was slid into the water, under the direction of Coach Willoughby, who had arrived on the ground and heard the whole strange story, which revived recollections in the mind of the old Princeton graduate that brought many a smile to his face.