“An ice-yacht,” observed Carl learnedly, “is the nearest approach at the present age to a flying-machine.”

“And I never cared a bit about flying,” answered Dick, without enthusiasm.

The two, with Trevor and Stewart Earle, were gathered close about the fireplace in Number 16 Masters. Two good hickory logs were crackling merrily, and, although owing to the fact that the steam-heating apparatus was evidently on a strike and their backs were constantly caressed by shivers, their knees and faces were radiantly warm; and that was sufficient comfort. A huge paper bag was perched on the table, and the quartet were busily munching big, rosy apples, while close to the ashes four more were sizzling and sputtering in the heat. They had started out with the intention of having a feast of roasted apples, but had found that the roasting process was too slow to meet the demands of their appetites, and so were keeping down the pangs of starvation in the interims by consuming the fruit as Nature had meant they should.

“An ice-yacht,” continued Carl, undismayed, “can be[93] put together very easily and cheaply. All you have to have is four pieces of timber and——”

“Look here, Carl,” interrupted Dick impolitely, “the last thing you made was a toboggan, and it cost about nine dollars before you were through with it, and you could have bought a good one for five.” Stewart giggled and Carl grinned good-naturedly.

“Well, let’s buy one, then,” he replied. “Let’s go down to Euston Point and see the one this fellow advertises.”

“How much do they cost?” asked Trevor.

“Oh, we could get a second-hand one for fifteen dollars, easy; maybe less. That would be only four dollars apiece, if we all went in. And we could have the biggest kind of fun! Why, some ice-yachts go as fast as ninety miles an hour!”

“Oh, get out!”

“They do; don’t they, Stew?”

“Easy,” answered Stewart gravely. “I’ve seen lots of them do it. I owned one myself once that could go a hundred and thirty-seven miles in——”

“Shut up, you idiot!” growled Carl. “What do you say, fellows; shall we see if we can get the boat? Think how jolly grouchy the other chaps would be to see us skipping around and——”

“And breaking our necks,” suggested Trevor.

“Nothing of the sort! Why, it’s not dangerous at all;[94] any one that knows anything about sailing a yacht can manage an ice-boat.”

“Well, who knows anything about sailing among this crowd? Do you, Trevor?”

Trevor shook his head.

“Not a thing.”

“I do, of course,” interrupted Carl.

“Well,” said Stewart, “as far as I’m concerned I think I’d rather have some one else than you do it, Carl.”

“Oh, quit fooling; I’m in earnest. Suppose we go to Euston Point next Saturday and see what’s doing?”

“But, look here,” said Dick, “how do you know Faculty will let us sail the thing if we get it?”

“Why shouldn’t they? They allow skating; ice-yachting’s just skating—with a difference. Besides, as long as there’s no rule against it we have a right to do it.”

This argument was incontrovertible, and it was agreed that the four should journey to the near-by village of Euston Point the following Saturday morning. And then Stewart suddenly discovered that the apples on the hearth had been done for some time, and in the business that followed the subject of ice-yachting was forgotten.

When Dick and Trevor returned from supper that evening they found a fresh, inky-smelling number of The Hilltonian awaiting them in the letter-box. Dick hurried to the room with it and spread it out under the light on the table. Yes, Singer had been as good as his word; the[95] leading editorial was headed The Rowing Situation, and was quite in Singer’s best style.

“My!” ejaculated Trevor, who had been reading the article over Dick’s shoulder, “that’s spiffin!”

“It sounds rather well, doesn’t it?” asked Dick, highly gratified by the effusion. “And you’d think it would bring some of the fellows round, eh?”

“Bound to; you’ll find slathers of them in the gym to-morrow afternoon,” replied Trevor confidently. “Read it out loud, Hope.”

And Dick did so and Trevor listened admiringly and interpolated an applauding “Hear, hear!” at intervals, and Dick went to bed very hopeful of the morrow.

But when at three o’clock the following afternoon he repaired to the rowing-room his heart sank. Aside from the original nineteen candidates, but the veriest handful were present. Dick counted them grimly; there were fourteen of them, and for the most part they not only looked but really were sadly out of their element. A small junior of perhaps fourteen tried to hide himself in a corner, but Dick routed him out mercilessly and asked him cruelly if he was a candidate for coxswain.

“Yes—no—that is, I don’t know,” was the breathless reply. Dick turned away and encountered the mocking gaze of Taylor, who, when Dick’s eyes were turned upon him, smoothed his features into an expression of respectful concern and walked forward.

[96]

“What an outfit, eh?” he asked softly. But Dick was resolved that the other should not have the satisfaction of knowing his disappointment. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled carelessly.

“Well, they don’t look brilliant; a bit light on an average; but I dare say we’ll be able to find some good material in the lot.” At that moment Professor Beck entered. After a slow and careful glance up and down the long room he looked fleetingly at Dick, frowned, and turned away. But he made no remarks upon the showing of candidates save once.

“Mr. Kirk will coach the crews again this year,” he announced, “and will be with you every Saturday afternoon until the river opens, when, as last year, he will come up to Hillton and stay with you until the race. I expect he will make his first visit a week from next Saturday, and I’m sure”—he glanced blandly over the audience—“I’m sure he will be greatly pleased with the material he will find.”

Something approaching a shudder passed over the throng, and Dick turned aside to hide a grim smile. Then the first batch of candidates trooped off to the locker room to don gymnasium attire, and the new recruits were registered, instructed to report for examination the following afternoon, and dismissed looking heartily relieved. When the last one had gone Professor Beck heaved a sigh and turned to Dick.

[97]

“Hope, are you certain there was no mistake made? You’re sure you didn’t issue a call for candidates for a tiddledy-winks team?” Dick smiled dismally.

“No, there’s no such luck. We’ve got thirty-four fellows, of which a possible two dozen are rowing material.”

“Hum; I think we shall be able to turn out an excellent second eight, but as for a varsity crew—do you happen to have an idea as to where we are going to get that, Hope?”

“No, sir, I haven’t,” replied Dick miserably. Professor Beck polished his glasses thoughtfully for a minute and studied the wintry landscape through the high window. Then he smiled, settled the shining lenses again on his nose, and turned toward the door.

“We’ll have to use our wits, Hope. Above all, don’t allow yourself to become discouraged. We still have a couple of weeks before us, and—well, I guess we can accomplish something in that time. Are you ready?”

Together they passed out onto the floor and in a few minutes the first squad of crew candidates had begun their training. Of the twenty, two had rowed in the varsity boat of the preceding year, four had rowed with the second eight, three had trained as substitutes, and the balance, eleven candidates, represented new and inexperienced material as far as shell-rowing was concerned. Well-nigh all were what Trevor would have termed “wetbobs,” and had paddled about in tubs or perhaps rowed now and then in a pair-oar. Professor Beck and Dick were busy for the[98] half hour that constituted the first day’s exercising. Generally speaking, each candidate required a different work from his neighbors. In Brown the forearm muscles were undeveloped; in Smith the chest muscles had been neglected; in Jones the back was as unbending as a two-inch plank, while Robinson, perchance, was in a state of general flabbiness. The professor viewed attentively the work of each boy, altered the exercise here, stopped it there, increased it elsewhere, while Dick stood beside him, listening to his instructions and memorizing, as pointed out to him, the needs of the different ones. After awhile the fellows were sent to the track for the briefest of trots, and so, having stood for an instant under a shower-bath, dressed, and went their ways full-fledged crew candidates, with an inalienable right to look down condescendingly upon their schoolmates, to cut Friday night lectures, and comport themselves generally in the manner of coming heroes.

And Dick, with Trevor at his side, went back to his room for an hour of study before supper, not overjoyful, but yet somewhat comforted by the professor’s hopefulness and by the fact that real work had at last commenced.

On Friday night Professor Beck announced to Dick that the fourteen newer candidates had been examined, and in five instances found wanting. “Of those that remain,” said the professor, “two look like good men; as for the rest——” He shrugged his shoulders eloquently. “But we can tell better in a week or two. Meanwhile, we must keep[99] up the recruiting. I have my eye on an upper middle boy, and I think I’ll............