"Because you are supposed to know the currents of this stream, and we've only been here a few days. If I lived near a stream of water I'd know all about it before very long."
"Aw get out, you're dubs! You don't know how to row!"
"We don't, eh?" demanded Andy. "I'll race any one of you individually in any kind of a craft you like. Don't know how to row!"
"We could row before you fellows knew what a boat or an oar was," declared Frank, and this was probably true, for they had been near the water all their lives and had been trusted out, not too far from shore, alone, when but five years old.
"Well, you want to keep out of our way after this," was all the retort the coxswain could make.
"Yes, you dubs from Riverview haven't any rights on the river since you gave up racing," added another of the Waterside Hall lads.
"Is there such a place as Riverview any more?" asked a third. "I understood it had been sold at auction."
There was a laugh at this, a laugh that brought a flush of anger and shame to the cheeks of Frank and Andy. The laugh still rang in their ears as they rowed away, and its echo seemed to follow them as they disappeared around a bend in the river and saw the shell being pulled back.
"Well?" remarked Andy in a questioning tone, after a long period of silence.
"Um," said Frank, noncommittally. "They're rather a stuck-up crowd. They think they're the whole universe when it comes to rowing, and a bit more. I wish we could take them down a peg. I'd just like to be one of a four-oared-shell crowd to put it all over them. Jove! Wouldn't it be fun to beat the jackets off them?"