rs. It rattles
up the liver, and does a heap of good. I don't need that sort of
thing, you see. Last time you bunked with George you know you improved
a hundred per cent."

"Huh! mebbe," grunted Josh, "but it wasn't worth it, I tell you."

"Look at that tug bucking up against the tide, will you?" exclaimed
George just then--being humiliated by all this talk about the cranky
qualities of his pet, and anxious to call their attention elsewhere in
order to change the subject.

"Must be a greenhorn at the wheel, or else the fellow's had more drink
than he had ought to tackle," declared Nick.

"He sure does wobble a heap," admitted Jack, keeping a wary eye on the
approaching craft, lest it foul his own boat, and bring sudden disaster
on the cruise which had begun so auspiciously. "But perhaps that's a
trick these river pilots have when heading up into an ebb tide. They
know all the wrinkles of the game, I guess, and how to save themselves
from wasted efforts."

"Say, that rowboat had better look out; if he makes a quick turn with
the tug he's apt to run the little punkin seed down," George declared,
with a note of anxiety in his voice; for he was nervous by nature, as
his love for racing and making high speed would indicate.

"That pilot must be watching us all the time, wondering whatever we're
heading for down the river, because the duck shooting below isn't on
yet. There! he's swung about again! I hope he don't knock that
rowboat galley west!" called Herbert.

"Hey! look to your starboard--you're running down a boat!" shouted
Jack, dropping his wheel for three seconds in order to make a speaking
trumpet with both hands.

There was a brief interval of suspense. Then came a plain crash,
accompanied by loud shouts, and more or less excitement aboard the tug
that was heading up river way.

"He did it!" bellowed Josh, fairly wild with eagerness. "Oh! I'm
afraid the poor fellow will be drowned before that tug can come about
and go to his rescue. Turn your bally old tub, Herb, can't you? It
takes a whole day for you to get around."

"No use of our trying it," declared the skipper of the big roomy
_Comfort_, calmly, for nothing could start Herb out of his customary
condition of mental poise, because he is as steady in his way as his
boat; "he'd be drowned twice over before we reached him. Besides,
there goes Jack in his _Tramp_, shooting straight for the smashed
rowboat. Unless the poor fellow was injure