There had been a general try-out of all the available material for races in the school, and as a result of this three cadets had been chosen to represent Colby in the singles against three cadets from the rival academy. Then four other cadets with a coxswain were entered for the four-oared shell and eight cadets with a coxswain for the final event.
“Hurrah! we’re in the four-oared event,” cried Randy, catching his twin by the arms. “We’re to row in that race along with Spouter and Dan Soppinger.”
“Gee, I hope we win!” was the reply.
“Oh, we’ve got to win!”
“Of course you’ve got to win,” broke in Fred. “If you don’t win I’ll lambaste the life out of you!”
“You’ve got to do it for the glory of Colby!” exclaimed Jack. “We’ve got to smother Longley Academy.” Secretly it fretted him and Fred not a little to think that as officers of the school battalion they could not participate in any of these contests.
“What is Gif going to do? Just sit and look on?” questioned Andy.
“No. He’s to be coxswain of the eight.”
“And who will manage our four?”
“That hasn’t been decided yet; but it will probably be Walt Baxter.”