"Glory! hear that, would ye?" roared Jimmie. "Sure he looks it, too, by the same token. But it will nade the hull caboodle of us to lift Buster aboard, for what wid all the wather he's gulped down he must weigh a ton, so he do." "Say, he certainly changed his mind, and concluded that the walking was good, after all!" exclaimed Herb, as he lent a hand toward raising the young elephant. "Yes," remarked George, who had really been badly frightened, but now tried to hide his feelings by a little joshing, "and I don't think it's a bit fair for your own crew to mutiny that way, and turn against the skipper." "What's that?" gasped Nick, half way over the side; "who mutinied?" "Why, the evidence is all against you, Hippo," returned his boatmate. "Didn't you see him, boys, holding on to a rope, and trying his level best to keep the dandy little _Wireless_ from getting too great a start? I'm going to offer that as a protest if I miss getting the silver Dixie cup." "Huh!" That was all Nick could get out, for just then with a grand heave all around his comrades managed to raise him over the gunwale of the speed launch, so that he came down on the after deck with a squash, streams of water running off his saturated garments. "There's only one thing to do," remarked Jack, "and that's to make a fresh start when Buster gets into some dry clothes. So hurry up, old fellow." "However did you come to do it, Pudding?" demanded Herb, as the three boats kept company drifting on the current of the river. "Well, I hardly know," grinned the other, as he started to leisurely undress. "I saw a coil of rope slipping overboard, and remember bending down to grab it. Guess the frisky little craft must have given a kick just about then. Next thing I knew I was in the drink, and swallowing more water than was good for me." "But you grabbed the rope all right, it seems!" remarked Josh, sarcastically. "Looks like it," admitted the other readily; "and I held on, too. My dad always did say I was a great fellow to keep my grip once I got it. There's only one thing I'm sorry about." "Now just quit that right where you are," remarked George. "What do you take me for, a phonograph with a blank record? Forget about those silly wings that were going to make a swimmer out of you. A few more duckings like this at the end of a rope and you'll be a boss paddler." "Oh! do you think so, George! Perhaps, then, once in a while you wouldn't mind tying a rope under my arms and letting me drop, easy-like, off the stern here, to learn the strokes. I wouldn't care very much, if I always had this good old cork thing on."