Bud Enders was drowned on a warm night in July, and twenty boats put out from Sac Prairie within an hour after he went down. Fred Birkett and Hank Blum were among them. Both the old men headed downstream, knowing by long past experience that the swift current in mid-channel, where the youth was drawn under, would quickly roll the body below Sac Prairie toward the long clay river bank southeast of the village, locally known as the Yellowbanks district. Toward dawn, Fred Birkett found Bud Enders' body, rolling along in shallow but swift water crossing a sand-bar just above the Yellowbanks. The moon was out, and he had no difficulty seeing the body, which he immediately caught with a boathook and secured to the boat without taking it from the water. Then he edged his boat out of the current and made swiftly upstream. Just where Hiney's Slough enters the Wisconsin, he met Blum. He could not help boasting. "Just made my dozen," he called to Hank in a gruff, yet faintly triumphant voice. Blum turned his boat and swung across current toward him. Birkett rested on his oars. Unaware of the fury that consumed his rival, he went on, "Well, we couldn't both find him. Let the best man win, I always said," and smiled in the satisfaction of feeling himself the better of the two. Blum had said nothing, but now he was looking cautiously upstream and down, his eyes scanning the surface of the water for sight of any boat, his ears waiting to catch any sound that might indicate the approach of other searchers. The two boats lay in quiet water, away from the current. Whether or not Birkett heard Blum loosen and jerk out one oar is problematical. He turned toward Blum just as the oar descended and caught him a glancing blow on the side of the head, toppling him from his boat and turning the boat with him. Then, with a savage lunge, he pushed Birkett's boat out of reach of the older man just as he came coughing and gasping to the surface of the water. With another quick movement, Blum detached Enders' body from the overturned boat. He made no attempt to catch the body, knowing that the current would not carry it from this quiet water, and he could always return and find it. Then he shot away, unmindful of Birkett's despairing cries, and secure in the knowledge that Birkett could not swim very well. A little way upstream he paused and listened. There was no sound from below; Birkett had gone down. A cunning smile crossed his lips. Edging the boat into shallow water, he let himself fall fully clothed into the river, wetting himself thoroughly, except for his torn hat, which he threw into the bottom of the boat to give it the appearance of having been hastily torn away from his head and thrown there. Then he got back into the boat and rowed furiously toward Sac Prairie.