hard work. The time of the eight, especially, began to improve. The boys rowed with more snap and vigor. They could stand the "gaff" better, and when Jerry Jackson, sitting crouched up in his coxswain's seat, called for a spurt, there were not so many "bellows to mend" in the shape of panting lads, as there had been.
"We've coming on!" cried Mr. Lighton proudly, at the close of an exciting brush between the first and second boats one day, when the varsity had won. "We're coming on!"
"If we can only keep it up," breathed Frank, who, being captain of the eight, as well as stroke, felt his responsibility.
"Oh, we'll do it, old man," declared Tom, and he succeeded in infusing some of his spirit into his chums. The faint hearts of the weeks before had become strong.
"But you boys needn't think you are going to win!" declared Ruth, when the four lads called on the four girls about a week prior to the date set for the regatta. "We have a championship crew in the eight, if nowhere else."
"Never!" cried Tom. "We're going to win the eight if we lose everything else; eh, fellows?"
"That's what!" his chums chorused.
"Anyhow, I'm glad of one thing," remarked Ruth, in a low voice to Tom, "Phil is so interested in this rowing game that he hasn't said a word
