Chapter 10

FRED'S HOME-COMING

"We win! We win!"

The shouts of the fellows who wielded the oars in the leading boat came floating back to those who were still scrambling around in the cranky outlaw craft.

Buck put his hands to his mouth, in order to make his voice carry the better, and yelled disdainfully after them:

"Yes, you win, but only through a foul! Run into us, and broke one of our outriggers to flinders! But just wait till we get a new one made, we'll beat you to a frazzle! Wait!"

"It wasn't so, was it, Brad?" demanded Corney Shays indignantly; "we never touched his boat, did we?"

"Well, I like his nerve!" cried Sid Wells, for all of them were taking things easy, now that the race was over, and the victory won. "Why, hang it, I don't believe we were within thirty feet of their old boat any time."

"And you're right, Sid," added Brad. "I ought to know, because I was in a position to see everything. When that outrigger smashed they were a quarter of a length ahead. Anybody with half an eye can see that it was the second oar that got in trouble. And boys, believe me, that outrigger was away up opposite our stem, far out of reach of our oars, end on end. It's too silly for anything!"

"But I think, from all I know of the fellow, that it's just like Buck to say a thing like that?" suggested Fred.

"You're right there, Fred," declared Dick Hendricks; "he never yet lost a game but what, quick as a flash, he made it a point to claim that it was a foul, and the beat an unfair one. Isn't that so, fellows, all you who've known Buck since he was a kid, and always a fighting bully?"

"You never said truer words, Dick," declared Sid. "And I ought to know, because I've had a dozen fights with Buck in as many years. Fact is, they say we went at each other before we were able to walk, and that he pulled the only tuft of yellow hair out that I owned about then. He used to joke me, and boast that he had that yellow lock at home, tied with a string, just like an Indian would an enemy's scalplock. Oh! we've been at it, hammer and tongs, ever since. And just as you say, Dick, he never yet lost a fight or a race or a game but what he set up a howl that the other fellow cheated, or took an unfair advantage of him."

"But by this time the people of Riverport ought to be on to Mr. Buck, and know how little truth there is in his whine," remarked Fred.

"Well, a lot of them do," answered Brad, scornfully, for he was indignant over the small trick of the beaten coxswain; "but you know how it is, Fred. You'll always find a certain percentage of people in every place only too willing to think the worst of you, given half a chance."

"Oh! well, we don't have to bother our heads about it, I suppose," remarked Sid. "It's the same old story, nine-tenths believing in our side, and the others backing up Buck. But, fellows, we know what we know. That race was won through a streak of luck for our side, perhaps, and I'm sorry to even admit that; but there wasn't the first hint of foul play on our part."

"And given half a chance," said Corney Shays, "Buck would have easily punched a hole in our boat, if he really believed he was going to be licked. I've known him to do things twice as bad as that, and get away with it too, in the bargain. Accuse him of it, and he'd laugh in your face, and ask how you could prove anything."

"Let's drop Buck and his ways for a while, and think of our chances with those husky Mechanicsburg chaps," observed Brad, as they came in sight of the outlying houses connected with the home town, scattered along the river front.

"Oh! I know what you mean, Brad, all right," spoke up Colon, sensitive to anything like criticism; "every one knows that I weakened toward the end, and that's what threw us out of gear. Couldn't help it, if you killed me. That little trouble I had with the river yesterday must have still bothered me. Never had such a queer feeling grip me before, and hope never to again."

"Oh! I wouldn't bother myself about that, Colon," Brad hastened to say, consolingly; "given a few days to rest, and you'll be as tough as ever. That strain was heart-breaking, and nobody could blame you for wilting under it, after what you passed through yesterday. If I'd known we were going to meet that bunch, all primed to give us a race, perhaps I'd have thought it good policy to put Joe in the crew for the run home. But it all turned out right after all."

"And we won, which was the best part of it!" crowed Corney.

"I differ with you there, Corney," declared Brad. "To me the best part of it was the game quality the whole crew showed. That was an eye-opener to me. I know now what you can stand; and next time won't be so much afraid to push you to the limit, if I feel that every fellow is fit."

"Another thing," remarked Fred, "that is pleasant to know, is the fact that luck broke in our favor. It's been my experience always, in nearly every game, when the teams are about even, that when luck takes to turning one way, that side always wins out. Everything comes their way. It's begun to like us, boys."

"And we sure have no kick coming," remarked Corney, with emphasis.

There were quite a few people waiting to see what was going to happen. They had known of Buck and his outlaw crew going up the river in their boat; and since the regular crew was expected down that afternoon, by putting things together, they rather guessed a race might result.

Some of these people had field glasses, and from the wild way they cheered Brad and his interested spectators of at least the conclusion of the race; for the river ran about straight for some distance up toward Mechanicsburg.

"Hello!" Brad called out to a party of five or crew, it might be suspected that they had been six schoolboys who seemed to be trying to crack their voices yelling, as they waved their hats, and one of them a pair of glasses; "did you see us trim Buck's bunch, Lossing?"

"You just bet we did, and you showed 'em up handsomely too," came the reply; "but what happened in their boat when they were in a dead heat with you?"

"Why, they were a quarter of a length ahead at the time," answered Brad, frankly. "We'd been sea-sawing it all the way down, first one leading, then the other. All at once one of their outriggers snapped off short, and that threw them into all sorts of confusion."

"Oh! that was it, eh? I had the glasses, but couldn't make out just what happened. But you _did_ beat them anyhow, Brad?" called the other, jubilantly.

"You'll hear a howl from Buck, all right, Lossing," Brad went on, as they came in to the shore gently enough, this being their landing place.

"Well, we reckoned on that," laughed the other. "It wouldn't be Buck Lemington if he didn't make a kick. What was he yelling out after you, Brad?"

"Had the nerve to say we fouled his boat, and broke that outrigger, Lossing."

"Hasn't he the colossal nerve though?" the boy ashore shouted. "Why, I know for a dead certainty that the boats were at least three lengths apart at the time. That sure does make me snicker, Brad."

And before evening it might be set down as certain that two versions of the race would be circulating all through Riverport, one believed by nearly all the better element, and the other taken as truth by a few select persons who, from various reasons, thought it policy to back up anything done by Buck Lemington; or his father, the rich Squire, who had interest in several factories, and was moreover quite a politician in the community.

Fred waited around the boathouse until the Colon wagon arrived, bringing the rest of the boat club, and all their ordinary clothes as well.

Like the others of the crew, Fred dressed then, and along about dusk started for home, knowing that it was well on toward supper time, and his father must be in from his work.

Once more Fred was thinking of his own troubles, and heaving more than one sigh, as he found himself wishing again and again that something might happen to bring a new joy into the lives of his mother and father. They seemed to be losing hope; and the cares that gathered were beginning to make them look old before their time.

Oh! if only they could hear _something_ from Hiram Masterson, the miner from Alaska, who had been so mysteriously spirited away just when he had determined to testify against his own rascally uncle, Sparks Lemington, and put the Fentons in possession of such information as would enable them to win the suit for the mine.

"But I suppose that would be too great happiness," he mused, as he drew near his home, in the window of which he could see the light placed there by his mother.

He opened the door, and then stood there transfixed, because of what he saw; for his mother was in the arms of his father, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and she seemed to be weeping.

But when she raised her head at Fred's entrance the astonished and delighted boy saw immediately that it must be great joy that brought those tears, and caused this deep emotion, for upon that dear face he could read a new-born happiness.

And again he remembered what he had said to his mates on the crew about luck having chosen to hunt them out as favorites; for it even seemed to wait him at home.