“No, now!” snapped Boswell. “Something unexpected came up as I was on the course. I think it is due to me to allow me to explain how I came by that——”
“Here!” exclaimed Tom, anxious that Phil should not listen. “Make it brief. I can’t understand what you have to explain, though.”
“You’ll soon know—someone else will explain, too. He will be here shortly.”
“Ready for the eight! Ready for the eight!” came the summons from without.
“Get together, fellows!” called Captain Frank Simpson. “And for the love of Randall row as you never rowed before.”
“Don’t hang back when I call for the spurt,” added the coxswain.
“Ready for the eight! Ready for the eight!” again came the summons.
“Come on!” ordered Frank once more, looking over to where Tom and Boswell were standing, apart from the others.
“Get a move on, Parsons,” directed Dutch. “If we win you’ll be the first over the line, being in the bow. Come on.” Tom had again been made bow oar.