Others coming around just then, the confidential conversation was brought to an end. Already some of the minor races were being engineered, for the length of the programme necessitated an early start. Other interesting things had been scheduled for that afternoon, and it was intended to finish all the river events before noon.
Half a dozen entered for the canoe races, which were fiercely contested. When a Clifford lad managed, by dint of clever work, to bring his little craft to the stake first, and was declared winner, the shouts of his friends told that there must have been a general exodus of Clifford people to Columbia on this wonderful Fourth.
After that came the laughable tub race. There were just four contestants in this race, all of them apparently spry chaps but Buster. Because of his bulk he was considered fit sport for all the strangers.
"Look at the sportive elephant!" shouted one fellow who wore the Clifford ribbon on his straw hat.
"'Taint fair," shouted another, this time from Bellport; "we've only entered one to a tub and Columbia has rolled three in one."
"Watch out for that feller! He's Buster Billings, and they say he can paddle a wash tub like fun! It comes natural, because his daddy runs the only laundry in town!"
"What's the course?" demanded a stranger.
"Across the river and back. Got to fight the current too. It's no cinch, boys. I tried it once, and kept turning around all the time. There they go! Hurrah!"
With the crack of the pistol the four contestants began to paddle frantically, amid a howling chorus of encouragement. The excitement grew in volume as it was seen that the paddlers appeared to keep pretty well together.
They splashed water upon one another, and each did everything possible to further his own progress at the expense of the rest.