back. Buster should have known better. It is always a dangerous thing to do, whether when fleeing from a burning city or trying to win a boat race.
Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt from looking back; but Buster simply rolled gracefully out of his tub into the Harrapin river.
"It's all over with Buster!" shouted some of those who had been enthusiastically applauding his fine work; while the adherents of the other two started in once more to shout their hopes.
"Wait and see what he does," suggested another, who had been watching the practice work of the fat boy recently.
Buster pulled himself together. He seemed to gauge the capacity of his tub for bearing up his weight, for he slid himself over the edge with a precision gained from long practice.
"He's in!" whooped a delighted fan.
"No, he's out!" echoed another, as Buster, having acquired too much momentum took a header over the further side of his round and awkward craft, once more bringing up with a splash in the water.
Meanwhile his competitors were striving madly to cover up the space separating them from the one in advance. They were coming on with considerable confidence and speed, trying to avoid the calamity that had apparently overtaken Buster.
"There he goes at it again. Mount him, Buster;
