“Hello, you fellows!” called Dave Ogden, who was acting as the coxswain of the shell, waving his megaphone at them. “Out for practice?” and he grinned as he looked at the heavy barge.
“Yes, we’re getting ready to order a new shell,” answered Tom.
“Ha! Ha! That’s pretty good. Maybe you think you can beat us rowing!” and Dave looked not a little proudly at the eight lads whose efforts he had been directing. They had been out for a spin on the lake, and were now coming back rather leisurely.
“We will beat you—some day!” declared Frank.
“Maybe you’d better not tell them about our shell until we get it,” suggested Tom, in a low voice.
“Oh, they’ll have to know it some time or other,” declared Frank. “It will be all over the college in a day or so, and Boxer Hall is sure to learn of it. Besides, I want to get things stirred up a bit. But they’ll only think we’re joking, so far.”
The eight-oared shell passed on with a sweep, the rowers making good time against the current. But then the craft was so much like a knife that it offered scarcely any resistance to the water.
“Row easy, all!” came the command from Dave Ogden, and the rowers reduced the number of their strokes per minute. They were closer to shore now, and out of the worst grip of the current. The coxswain waved his megaphone at our friends in a friendly fashion, and then gave his attention to his crew. Though there was rivalry—sometimes bitter—between Randall and Boxer Hall, the students were, for the most part, very friendly.
“Jove! It will be great to get in that game!” exclaimed Tom with a sigh, as he watched the rival’s shell.
“And we’ll do it, too!” declared Frank, earnestly.