“Some of us wouldn’t, that’s a sure thing,” returned Talbot. “We’ll watch the launch off, and then go back and lie down.”
The Veritas took on board the officials and the newspaper men, and headed up river after the crews. President John had elected to go with the launch. He posted himself beside the steersman in the bow, standing proudly erect to be seen and admired of all men, and cast a long glance backward at the common herd that thronged the float.
“Doesn’t he make you sick?” growled Talbot, as they watched the Veritas plough her way upstream. “I suppose Newbury isn’t responsible for him, but I’d give my allowance for all summer to be sure of getting ahead of him. I’d row till I dropped dead rather than let that goat see us beaten.”
“He won’t see our second beaten, to-day,” said Eaton. “We’ve got the best thing in seconds on the river.”
“But he’ll see us beaten,” returned the captain. “I hate to give him so much rope, but second place is good enough for us to-day. On Friday we’ll have a real try at ’em.”
They lay down again in their old corner, telling Rust to call them out when there was anything to see.
“This is the worst part of it,” said Pete. “There’s nothing so hard as waiting. How goes it, Roger?”
Roger shook his head with a melancholy little smile that barely lifted the corners of his tight-closed lips. Pete threw at him an uneasy look.
“You don’t feel sick again, do you?” he asked quickly.
This time Roger’s lips parted to a full grin, “No,” he answered with emphasis. “I’m nervous, that’s all. I want to be doing something.”