The Half-Back: A Story of School, Football, and Golf

by Ralph Henry Barbour

"Well, he said that the coach was down on him, and gave his place to your friend here, and--"

"No," answered Joel quietly. "I didn't take his place. He tried to strike me one day at practice, and Remsen, our coach, put him off. That was all. Afterward he--he--But it isn't worth talking about."

"But I didn't know that St. Eustace made a practice of taking in cast-off scamps from other schools," said West. The other lad flushed as he answered apologetically:

"We didn't know, West. He said he was a friend of yours and so--But the other fellows shall know about him." Then there was a stir on the bridge and a voice cried, "There they go to the float!"

Up the stream at the starting point two shells were seen leisurely paddling toward a float anchored a few yards off the right bank. The colors were easily distinguishable, and especially did the crimson of Hillton show up to the eager watchers on the bridge. Every eye was turned toward the two boats, and a silence held the throng, a silence which lasted until sixteen oar-blades caught the water almost together, and the two boats began to leave the float behind. Then cries of "They're off!" were raised, and there was a general shoving and pushing for places of observation on the up-stream side of the structure, while along the banks the crowds began to move about again.

It was Joel's first sight of a boat race, and he found himself becoming very excited, while West, veteran though he was, breathed a deal faster, and talked in disjointed monosyllables.

"Side by side!... No, Hillton's ahead!... Isn't she?... Eh ... You can't... see from here ... which is ... leading.... Get another hold on my ... arm, ... Joel; that one's black ... and blue! ... Hillton's ahead! Hillton's ahead by a half length!"

But she wasn't. Side by side the two shells swept on toward the first half-mile mark. They were both rowing steadily, with no endeavor to draw away, Hillton at thirty strokes, St. Eustace at thirty-two. The course was two miles, almost straight away down the river. The half-mile buoy was not distinguishable from where Joel stood, but the mile was plainly in sight. Some one who held a stop-watch behind Joel uttered an impatient growl at the slow time the crews were making.

"There'll be no record broken to-day," he said. "They're eight seconds behind already for the first quarter."

But Joel didn't care about that. If only those eight swaying forms might pass first beyond the finish line he cared but little what the time might be. The cheering, which had ceased as the boats left the start, now began again as they approached the finish of the first quarter of the course.