“Oh! I don’t mean to,” replied the other; though he made very extravagant gestures, so as to show those on the other boat that he was “ready for business at the old stand,” as he expressed it. The boys stood there, watching with increasing uneasiness; for just as Bluff had asserted, the big power-boat was swooping straight down for them. On board several youths seemed to be running this way and that, calling out all sorts of excited things, just as though they had lost control; though Oswald himself could be seen in the pilothouse, swinging the wheel back and forth in an uncertain way, as though hardly knowing whether to take the chances of a collision or not. Another sixty seconds, and nothing could save the two heavy craft from coming together with crashing force, perhaps with serious consequences. Frank watched, and made ready to swing the big sweep at the slightest indication of a change of direction on the part of the other houseboat, that would afford a loophole of escape from the dire consequences of Oswald Fredericks’ folly. CHAPTER XII—A RED GLOW IN THE SKY Crash! Only for a sudden change of heart on the part of Oswald Fredericks the coming together of the two boats would have been of a much more serious character. At the last moment, almost, he had apparently changed his mind, and tried to whirl the wheel rapidly in one direction. Frank, seeing that the other was now endeavoring to avoid a collision, tried to assist by every means in his power. And the others, springing to his help, caused the sweep to plough the water at the stern in such a manner that the _Pot Luck_ must have altered her course considerably. The other boat came with a slanting blow. As the young fellow who ran the engine had had the good sense to shut off power previous to their coming together, there was no great amount of damage done. One window aboard the _Pot Luck_ and several on the _Lounger_ went to pieces, the jingle of broken glass adding to the confusion. “Whoop!” yelled Jerry, as he came near falling overboard, when the boat staggered from the force of the slanting blow. “Are we sinking?” cried Will, who was flat on his back, his legs threshing the air in a helpless fashion. Frank hung to the sweep; while Bluff, having his gun to look after, and anticipating something of a knock, had settled upon the deck beforehand, like a wise boy, so that he saved himself a nasty tumble. “Why didn’t you get out of the way?” called Oswald, from the pilothouse of the other boat, now floating alongside. “Didn’t you see the machinery had jammed, and we couldn’t control her?” Frank knew that this was entirely false, for he had seen them head in from a point further out on the river, as if deliberately meaning to strike the _Pot Luck_.