The race comes off at five in the afternoon. By midday the town is full, and every train brings fresh throngs of laughing girls and boisterous students. All are decorated with the blue or the crimson. Flags are everywhere, and there are horns in abundance.
At the docks the great Sound steamers are moored, and they are packed with sight-seers. There are numberless yachts on the river, all decorated with gay colors and thronged with gay parties.
Within the boathouse, preparations were being made for the race. Collingwood was giving final instructions to his men. Bastow, an old coach, was surveying
each and every one in the most critical manner possible.
They were handsome fellows, these men of the crew. Their flesh was brown and firm, and their eyes were bright. They had broad backs and powerful shoulders.
Collingwood looked troubled. It was evident there was something on his mind. Fred Flemming, in a new spring suit, is talking with Popkay, the little cox. Some wonder that Flemming, who had been dropped for Merriwell, should be there.
Among the spectators on a certain yacht are Tom Thornton and Willis Paulding. They are watching for the crew to appear, and, as they watch, Thornton says something that betrays a knowledge of Flemming's presence in the boathouse.
"I'll go you two to one that Flem rows after all," he declares. "Do you dare take me, Paulding?"
"By the way you say that I should think you were betting on a sure thing, don't yer 'now," drawled Willis.
"I am," asserted Tom. "I have it straight that Merriwell is not in trim, and will be laid off. Flemming was called to quarters at the last moment."