He was dressed in a flannel outing suit, and wore a straw hat, about which was a bright red ribbon. His necktie, also, was bright red. On his feet were well-polished russet shoes. There was a diamond in his tie, and diamonds set in the rings on his fingers.
It seemed at a glance that this lad had “money to burn.” His swell appearance was enough to make almost any ordinary boy regard him with envy and admiration. And his manner would impress an ordinary boy with his astonishing knowledge and importance in the world.
“Oh, say!” he shouted; “what do you chaps think you are doing? Feel for the water. Be delicate and gentle when you are coming forward. This is not a question of bull strength. If it was, a crew of longshoremen and freight handlers could row all around you.”
Not a word from the sturdy, sun-browned young fellows in the boat. They were there to obey, and to stand such abuse as this insolent, overbearing coach saw fit to heap upon them.
“Great Scott!” cried the coach, once more. “You chaps make me sick! Will you never get onto yourselves? There you go, five! Can’t you see what you’re doing? You’re pulling out, and you are wasting the end of your stroke. You are finishing ahead of four every time. It would take a club to beat anything into your head! Vast, turn around, coxswain.”
Then this important person fell back a step, and spoke to another lad, who was concealed by some bushes, from which he was peering at the crew in the boat.
“A lot of lubbers,” said the coach, contemptuously. “You fellows needn’t worry about them. You’ll show them clear water from the start.”
These words were uttered in a low tone, so they could not be heard by the rowers.
The boy hidden in the bushes laughed softly.
“You are playing them for suckers, all right, Harlow,” he said; “but it does seem to me that they are improving under your coaching. Look out and not make them so good that they will stand a show of winning over A. A. C.”