in charge of the race, whereby
the news would be flashed to those far down the stream which one of the
rival boats had managed to make the turn ahead.

"Which are the signals?" one boy asked, as though he had become
slightly confused, owing to the excited condition of his mind; and
which, after all, was not to be wondered at, with all that racket
around him, and his pulses thrilled with the hope he hugged to his
heart that Riverport might win.

"Red if Mechanicsburg is ahead, and blue if Riverport turns first!"
someone obligingly called out.

"There goes the flag up!" shrieked a voice just then.

There was a tall pole at the bend, and they could see some dark object
mounting rapidly upward. The flag was bunched in some manner, to be
released when it reached the top of the mast And how those few seconds
did seem like hours to the anxious hearts of the onlookers, who were
holding their very breath in suspense.

Then a mighty shout broke out that was like the great billows dashing
on a rock-bound coast:

"It's blue! Riverport turns first!"

"Oh! you Mechanicsburg, how we pity you right now!"

"A runaway! They'll never be in sight when we cross the line!"

"The easiest thing ever! Football, baseball, and now rowing; why,
you're not in it at all, Mechanicsburg!"

"Sure they are--in the soup!"

However, in spite of all this brave talk, those who taunted the
up-river boys understood that it was quite too soon to do much crowing.
What if Riverport had succeeded in getting the inside track of their
rivals, so as to turn the upper boat first, that did not mean the
others would lie down, and allow their old-time enemies of many a
hard-fought game to triumph over them. Mechanicsburg players had the
reputation of being stayers, who would not admit defeat until the last
man was out, or the concluding yard been passed over.

Doubtless both boats were even now coming down the river at a marvelous
pace. The question remained to be seen whether Mechanicsburg could
throw enough power into their strokes to cut down the lead their rivals
had obtained, and forge ahead as they drew near the goal.

"Will Colon overdo himself again?"

That was the question one white-faced Riverport boy put to a mate as
they stood there, with their eyes glued on the bend above, around which
the boats must come flying at any second now.

"Aw! come off with you, Tatters," was the immediate and scornful reply;
"you know mighty well what made him