“Yes, it’ll do us good to get cooled off,” said Tom. “I hope there’s a decent boat left.”
There were several rowing craft, owned by the college, which were used in common by the students, it being a case of first come first served. In addition a number of the lads had boats of their own, but Tom was not one of the lucky ones.
“There’s Holly’s skiff,” remarked the Big Californian, as the two came near the boat house. “He won’t use it to-day, as he’s gone to a meeting of the athletic committee over at Exter. Let’s pinch that.”
“All right, I guess he won’t mind. It’s the only decent one left, anyhow.”
“I wonder why Randall never did much shell racing?” mused Frank, as he and his chum were floating idly down the river. “I should think the fellows would. There’s a good course here, and with Boxer Hall, and Fairview, so close by, and near the river, there ought to be more interest in the sport.”
“That’s right, there had,” agreed Tom, casting a glance over his shoulder to see if the course was clear. “Maybe we will have a good crew, after we see how these games come out. What we need is some one to stir things up. Randall, from what I hear, didn’t use to take any interest in sports. It’s only of late years that she’s come to the front. Of course there has been some rowing here, and one or two good races, but nothing to boast of. What do you say if we start something?”
“I’m willing. We four might get a shell and challenge Boxer Hall. I like rowing, and it’s good exercise. But it’s too late to do anything this term, especially with the games coming on.”
“That’s right, but it’s worth thinking of,” agreed Frank. “We’ll keep it in mind. Want me to row?”
“No, you sit still and take it easy. You’re out for your health you know.”
“Oh, you be hanged!” was the half-protesting answer. “You’d have ’em think I was an invalid. I’m all right.”