Frank stopped at a little brook to bathe his face, since he had been told that he looked as though he had been in a free-for-all scrap. He also discovered that he felt a bit sore in a few places, as a result of the several encounters he had had with the two rogues, not to mention his fall.
But it was with a light heart that he trundled his wheel along behind the procession, and held Martin's pistol in the other hand; not that he could have had the heart to use it under any circumstances; but it seemed to be a part and parcel of the game.
"You're just the luckiest fellow I ever knew," observed Sandy, enviously, as he stalked along at Frank's side.
"Oh! I don't know. If I were I should have brought my boat in a nose ahead of Clifford this morning, instead of having a dead heat. But mind you, I'm raising no kick at all. I get my share of knocks, but it's something to be able to come up smiling after every round," laughed Frank, feeling of his arm.
"I hope you aren't badly hurt, old chap," remarked George, solicitously; "with that tie to be rowed off day after to-morrow. If they lose you out of the crew the cup's as good as lost to Columbia. How is it, Frank?"
"Nothing much. A few little cuts and a bruise or two; but they won't bother me after to-morrow. I'll
