“There goes the Senior shell!” exclaimed Jack, as from the college boathouse the long, slender craft was rowed out, looking not unlike some big bug, with long, slender legs. “They’re practicing for the race, I guess.”
“I wish I was with them,” remarked Tom. “I’m going to try for the Freshman crew.”
“And I’m with you.”
The two rowed on, and soon found a quiet, shady nook, where the trees overhung the river. There they tied their boat, and talked in the shadows.
Coming back they again saw the Senior shell, the lads in it rowing more slowly, for they were tired after their practice sprint. Turning in their hired boat, Tom and Jack went to the college crew’s headquarters, and there Tom, on making cautious inquiries, learned to his regret that there would be no Freshman crew organized that fall.
“You see,” explained Reddy Burke to the two lads, who were much interested in water sports, “our rowing season is in the spring. This is only a little supplementary race the head crew is going to row with Burkhardt college, which is five miles down stream. We beat them in the spring, but they asked for another meet, and we gave it to them.
“But rowing is practically over for this year, so I guess there’s no chance for you to get in a shell. Try in the spring, if you want to.”
“We will,” decided Tom.
“Meanwhile you’d better be thinking of football,” advised Reddy. “Candidates for the team as well as for the class elevens will soon be called for.”
“That hits us!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m going to train hard. Do you think our crew will win.”