“Guess so.”
“You lose a lot of headway in rudder work. Keep her straight—straighten her with each stroke, that’s the secret.”
“How many of you will be in the race?” Simpson asked.
“Only two of us. You see, we’ve got the cup in our troop. The other troops fight it out among themselves and I have to face the best one of the bunch. Sort of like the world series, only different. But I can see what’s coming all right. That red-headed fellow in the Ohio troop, he’s got me scared. He’s putting them all to sleep one after another. He’s got me feeling a little drowsy.”
“He has a jerky stroke?” Billy said, respectfully putting his observation in the form of a question.
“Yes, but he gets there. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as Pee-wee Harris says.”
“Do you think he’ll succeed with his new patrol?”
“Who, the kid? Oh, I don’t know; he’s a joke. He’s wished onto us. He’s here because he’s here, no matter what he does. Didn’t you know him in Bridgeboro?”
“No, I live across in East Bridgeboro.”
“Oh, I see. Well, here goes for a glide and then breakfast. Now watch.”