Though the institution had not boasted of a rowing association, or crew, in some years, there was a boathouse, and a number of craft owned by the students, and it was toward this structure that our friends betook themselves.
“Let’s take the big barge,” suggested Tom. “Then we can all get in it and talk.”
“It’s as heavy as lead,” complained Phil. “It will be all right rowing down stream, but coming back we’ll have a hard pull.”
“What of it?” demanded Frank. “It will be good practice for us if we’re going to try for the crew.”
“That’s right, we will have to make tries to see who are the best oarsmen,” remarked Tom. “I wonder if Mr. Lighton is a good coach when it comes to rowing? I know he’s all right at football and baseball, but——”
“I believe Dr. Churchill mentioned that if we took up this offer, one of the old grads, who was a crackerjack oarsman in his day, might come and give us some pointers,” put in Frank.
“Well, let’s get out. Say, but the river is high, though,” Tom exclaimed, as they came in sight of the stream. The rain of the past week had raised it considerably, and it was now rushing swiftly along, a muddy stream, far from bearing out its name—Sunny.
“The barge is as safe as a ferry-boat,” commented Sid. “It can’t upset.”
“All right, I’m game,” declared Tom. “Let’s row down to Tonoka Lake, and see what’s going on there.”