“There! I knew something would happen!” cried Mr. Lighton, in vexed tones, as he saw the accident, and he hurried down to see that Dutch quickly changed to dry rowing togs, for the tub racers had worn their light garments.
Meanwhile Snail Looper came steadily on, finishing first, with a Fairview lad second.
“First win for Randall!” yelled a Boxer Hall adherent. “You fellows had better stick to tubs!”
“Wait!” murmured Tom. “This may put Dutch in just the right trim to pull the race of his life.”
[CHAPTER XXXII]
BOSWELL’S CHANCE
“How about you, Dutch?” asked Tom eagerly, as he hurried up to his dripping chum, while others followed. The lads in rowing costumes did not hesitate to crowd close, while the other spectators, and there were many on the float, rather held back, for Dutch, in the exuberance of his mirth, was shaking himself like a Newfoundland dog, scattering drops all over.
“Fine and dandy!” was the answer of the big lad. “I just needed a bath.”
“Look here!” exclaimed Mr. Lighton, somewhat sternly, “you had better get a good rub-down, and put on some dry togs. Have you any dry ones here?”