They decided to turn down the river, and were soon gliding along in capital style. Despite what he had said, Dave could handle his oars fairly well, and after a little coaching from the senator's son got along without much trouble.
"All you need is practice," said Roger. "You have the idea."
"I'd like to be a good oarsman and get into some race," said Dave. "I think I'd like that better than any sport, outside of baseball."
"Well, you'll have chance enough, this fall and next spring," came from Phil. "Now, as for me, give me baseball or football every time."
They passed half a dozen other boats, including one containing Shadow Hamilton and Sam Day. The former was doing the rowing, while the latter was sprawled on the stern seat, half asleep.
"Talk about taking things easy!" cried Phil. "Just look at Lazy!"
"Wait till I wake him up," said Roger, and taking up his dripping oar, he allowed some of the water to drop directly on Sam Day's upturned face. There was a splutter, and Sam Day leaped up wildly.
"Wha—what's the matter?" he stammered.
"It's raining!" cried Dave. "Put up your umbrella!"
"Humph! Don't you do that again, Roger Morr, or I'll sprinkle you good!"
