When, on the following Saturday, Coach Kirk again visited Hillton, Dick had a sorry report to make: Taylor obdurate; Waters gone; two members of the second squad ill.

“Taylor absolutely refuses, eh?” said the coach, studying Dick’s face. “Well, if he won’t he won’t, and we must do our best without him. And Waters has dropped out, too, you say? He was at five, wasn’t he? Well, that’s another good man lost. You’ve tried to persuade him to come back?”

“Yes; I did all I could.”

“Ah! Is Waters a particular friend of Taylor’s?”

“I think they’re rather chummy.”

“I see. Well, Hope, I can’t pass behind you in this matter; it’s your business to look after the fellows, and if you can’t get them to stay in training, that ends it. We must do the best we can with what we’ve got. We’ll try Nesbitt at four to-day, and put Rankin of the second squad into Waters’s place. And, by the way, we’d better divide the second; make a third squad. That will leave two over,[167] won’t it? Two men, I mean? I thought so. I wish to goodness we had a second set of machines here. However—— By the way, Hope, you’re not looking very fit to-day; feel pretty well, do you?”

“Yes; I’m all right; didn’t sleep very steady last night, I guess.”

“Well, you’ll have to look after yourself carefully. If you go off your feed we will be in a hole. Now I want to see Beck a minute or two before we start to rowing.” And Kirk strode out onto the floor, and as he went he said to himself: “Plain as daylight; Hope and Taylor are at loggerheads, and Taylor’s persuaded Waters to leave. Nice state of affairs!”

February passed into March, and March, after performing its usual ?olian repertoire, subsided toward the end of its reign in preparation for a lamblike exit. And one morning Dick pushed up the blind and, according to his custom of weeks past, looked toward the river. And, lo, the water sparkled deeply blue under a springlike sun, and, save for a patch here and there along the margins and in the lee of the islands, was clear of ice.

“The river’s open at last!” he shouted to Trevor. And that youth hurried to the window to see the marvel with his own eyes.

“Good work! I say, Dick, it looks warm enough to go in swimming. Will we get out to-day?”

Dick shook his head.

[168]

“I guess we’ll wait until Saturday.”

“Saturday! But, jumping jiminy, this is only Tuesday!” exclaimed Trevor. “How can you expect a chap to grind away in the gym on a day like this?” He pushed the window up and threw himself over the sill, kicking his heels delightedly and breathing in the fresh, moist air greedily. A fringe of icicles above dripped water down onto his bare neck, and he giggled hysterically. “Just like a needle bath,” he sputtered.

“Come on and get dressed,” said Dick, “and let’s go over to breakfast.”

“All right; wait until I eat an icicle.” He reached up and broke off several. “Have one?”

“No, and no more will you,” replied Dick, knocking them out of his hand. “When you’re in training for the boat you can’t eat icicles; they’ll give you pains in your tummy.”

“Rot,” said Trevor; “there’s nothing more healthful than a nice underdone icicle just before breakfast.”

The boat-house on the following Saturday afternoon was a scene of much activity and color. The fellows turned out almost to a man for a look at the crews at work, and the second and third squad stood by and watched enviously while their more fortunate friends lifted one of the long cedar shells from the house and placed it in the water at the end of the float. The coxswain, an upper middle lad named Keene, called the numbers, and, one by one, Trevor[169] by virtue of his place at four, leading, the first squad entered the boat. Kirk contented himself to-day with a point of vantage on the landing, for the tiny naphtha launch was not yet ready for duty.

“Get your feet into the stretchers, men, and see how they feel. How is that, Six, too long? Hold her steady, you fellows. That’s better, isn’t it?” And when the last stretcher had been placed to suit: “Keene, keep the boat in the stretch here by the landing and inshore as much as you can. All right.”

“Get ready,” called the coxswain. The boat was pushed off from the float. “Forward!” The crew moved up with their slides. “Paddle!” and the shell floated out into the stream, her bow pointing up the river. “Easy all!” The paddling ceased and the boat lay motionless. “Forward!” The eight bodies bent. “Are you ready? Row!” and the blades swirled through the water and the boat leaped forward. Dick, at stroke, pulled leisurely, and after the first three or four strokes the rest of the eight caught the time, and the locks clicked in unison. At a little distance up-stream the boat was turned, and, with the same long, leisurely stroke, was brought back and past the landing, where Kirk, eagle-eyed, watched the work silently. Down-stream the shell was again turned, and, when it was once more opposite the float, was brought to a stop.

“Seven, keep your eyes in the boat and watch the[170] stroke,” called Kirk. “Five, you’re too late every time. Four, you don’t finish out. Bring your hands home. Two, keep your shoulders down at the finish. Cox, watch the boat; coming down just now she rolled like a log; keep an eye on Three and Bow; I think they’re the offenders. Try it again.”

And off went the boat once more, turned, passed the landing, and finally was again brought up that the coach might continue his criticism. Then the first squad was released and the second was given a few minutes instruction in watermanship, merely taking their places in the boat, handling the oars and paddling to and fro about the float. The third squad followed, and as each was released it was sent off for a run.

Among the fellows who watched the work of the crews that afternoon was Roy Taylor. It would, perhaps, be more truthful to say that he divided his watching between the crew and the coach. And from the latter he learned as much as from the former, and what he saw was evidently to his liking, for he went off up the steps whistling thoughtfully but with satisfaction.

“I’ll give Hope another three weeks to come around,” he said to himself, as he passed Society House and turned toward Academy Building. “If by that time he hasn’t consented to give me the captaincy, I’ll—I’ll eat my hat. I never saw such a duffer in a boat as that fellow they had to-day in my place at seven. And Kirk thinks the same[171] way, too; he tried to hide what he felt, but I know his way of tugging at his mustache and grinning pleasantly when he is worried; and he was worried to-day, all right. And I don’t blame him”—with a grin—“for there are three men in that first squad that wouldn’t last half a mile in a race with a girls’ school! Oh, yes, I guess old Hope will be around to see me before long!”

And Taylor pushed his way past the green leather doors of the library and, finding a book, went busily to work with pad and pencil—for whatever else might have been said about Roy Taylor, he was at least diligent at his studies, and stood high in his class.

Dick, followed by Trevor and the rest of the first squad, finished a mile run over the soft road, and came swinging up to the gymnasium an hour before supper-time, panting and tuckered, but in a most enjoyable glow and with appetites that protested strongly against the time that must elapse ere they could be satisfied. After a shower-bath Dick and Trevor walked across to Masters together, and, pulling a blanket over their feet, perched themselves on the broad window-seat in the lingering glow of the sun, and leaned back luxuriously against the pillows. Ever since the morning four days previous, when Dick had looked out to find the Hudson clear of ice, the boys had scorned fires, and, although the room had a way of getting cold toward evening, they insisted that spring had come, and that wood fires were a survival of the dark ages of midwinter. Trevor[172] stretched his arms and yawned, and the Latin book on his lap fell unheeded to the floor.

“That was something like, to-day,” he said. “It was worth all that work in the gym, every minute of it. I say, Dick, Kirk looked rather well satisfied with us, I thought, eh?”

“He looked that way,” answered Dick, “but don’t deceive yourself into thinking that he felt so. Not a bit of it; he was grumpy clean through; you could tell that by his grin; he always grins when he’s grumpy; makes you think of the—thingumbob—what is it that cries when it eats people?”

“Mouse?” asked Trevor innocently.

“Get out! Crocodile, I mean. That’s Kirk’s way. No, he wasn’t happy to-day, and I don’t blame him, for, oh, Trevor, my child, Jones fills Taylor’s place about as well as a wax doll would. And Rankin means well, but hasn’t got it in him, and Arnold’s just a makeshift, after all; I thought he was going to prove a good man............