The regatta was over. Randall, in spite of heavy odds and in spite of losing all but one race, was proclaimed champion of the Tonoka Lake League.
“But we’ll do you next year!” prophesied Pinky Davenport. “I think the loss of our cups was a hoodoo to us.”
“Maybe,” admitted Tom. “But next year is—well, next year, and we’re not greenies any more.”
“I guess you never were,” admitted his rival.
“And now let’s go see the girls, and tell them how sorry we are that we beat them,” proposed Sid.
If the girls felt badly they did not show it much.
“What I can’t understand,” said Phil, a little later, when he and his chums, and his sister and her chums were talking it all over at a little supper in Haddonfield, “what I can’t understand is how Boswell knew Ruth had lost her pin, and wanted to give her another.”
“He didn’t know it—stupid!” exclaimed Ruth, with a blush. “Only Tom knew it.”
“But Boswell was going to give you a pin.”
“Oh, can’t a fellow give a girl a pin without knowing that she has lost one or you making a fuss over it?” asked Sid.