ember," broke in the Judge with animation, "I allus said,
'Go slow, go slow. You just hold on and suthin' will happen.' And," he
added, triumphantly, "you see suthin' _has_ happened. I don't want to
take credit to myself, but I reckoned on them Excelsior boys bein'
fools, and took the chances."

"And what if I happen to know that the Excelsior boys ain't blastin'
to-day?" said the Right Bower, sarcastically.

As the Judge had evidently based his hypothesis on the alleged fact of
a blast, he deftly evaded the point. "I ain't sayin' the Old Man's head
ain't level on some things; he wants a little more _sabe_ of the world.
He's improved a good deal in euchre lately, and in poker--well! he's
got that sorter dreamy, listenin'-to-the-angels kind o' way that you
can't exactly tell whether he's bluffin' or has got a full hand. Hasn't
he?" he asked, appealing to Union Mills.

But that gentleman, who had been watching the dark face of the Right
Bower, preferred to take what he believed to be his cue from him. "That
ain't the question," he said virtuously; "we ain't takin' this step to
make a card sharp out of him. We're not doin' Chinamen's work in this
race to-day for that. No, sir! We're teachin' him to paddle his own
canoe." Not finding the sympathetic response he looked for in the Right
Bower's face, he turned to the Left.

"I reckon we were teachin' him our canoe was too full," was the Left
Bower's unexpected reply. "That's about the size of it."

The Right Bower shot a rapid glance under his brows at his brother. The
latter, with his hands in his pockets, stared unconsciously at the
rushing water, and then quietly turned away. The Right Bower followed
him. "Are you goin' back on us?" he asked.

"Are _you_?" responded the other.

"No!"

"_No_, then it is," returned the Left Bower quietly. The elder brother
hesitated in half-angry embarrassment.

"Then what did you mean by saying we reckoned our canoe was too full?"

"Wasn't that our idea?" returned the Left Bower, indifferently.
Confounded by this practical expression of his own unformulated good
intentions, the Right Bower was staggered.

"Speakin' of the Old Man," broke in the Judge, with characteristic
infelicity, "I reckon he'll sort o' miss us, times like these. We were
allers runnin' him and bedevilin' him, after work, just to get him
excited and amusin', and he'll kinder miss that sort o' stimulatin'. I
reckon we'll miss it too, somewhat. Don't you rememb