“Not so close at hand! Say, but it’s flimsy all right.”
“Oh, I guess we’ll find it stiff enough for us.”
These were only a few of the comments, and questions, propounded by the students of Randall as they gathered about the new shell—or, rather, the second-hand one—that had been purchased in order to give them practice while the new outfit was being made.
Following the enthusiastic announcement of Kindlings, as detailed in the last chapter, the more eager of the rowing contingent, including our four heroes, had gone to the freight depot, and, procuring a truck had, with great care and patience, transported the boat, well swathed in burlap, to the river. Later, under the direction of Coach Lighton, they had attached the outriggers, gotten out the oars, given the boat another coat of varnish, oiled it well, and now it rested in the water alongside the dock, as lightly as a swan, if not as gracefully.
“It looks more like a water-spider than anything else,” commented Jerry Jackson, one of the Jersey twins.
“Here! Can that!” cried Tom. “No finding fault with our boat, or we’ll duck you.”
“That’s what!” declared Dutch Housenlager. “Let’s get in and take a try!” he proposed, starting toward the frail craft, and preparing to step in it.
“Here! Hold on!” cried Mr. Lighton, in accents of alarm. “That’s no way to get into a shell. Now you fellows just hold your breaths until I give you a few points.”
The lads—a score or more—all of whom hoped to make the eight, while others felt that they would be satisfied in the fours, or singles, had gathered around. They had all helped to get the shell into shape, pending the arrival of some more of the second-hand craft. Now they were eager to try their skill.