"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Lighton, and he gave Morton a look that meant much. "Hurry now, Housenlager."
"Did you see me tumble in?" demanded Dutch, with a cheerful grin.
"Yes," assented Tom, somewhat sharply. "Quit your fooling now. We'll be in the race soon."
As the lad whose outrigger had delayed the race for single shells was not satisfied with the boat provided for him, another was gotten out. This further delayed matters, and it was decided to run off the doubles in the meanwhile. The singles would follow and then would come the great eight-oared contest, on which so much depended.
"Now boys, go in and win!" pleaded Mr. Lighton, to George Carter and Ben Blake, who were to uphold the honor of Randall in the doubles. "Remember about keeping on your course. If you are in your own water you're all right. Once you get off the course, and there's an accident, you'll have to abide by it. And pull hard! Save your breath for the spurt that is sure to come. And look out for Boxer. They're straining every nerve to beat us in every event to-day. They want to prove that it isn't possible to make rowers in a single season, and I want you to prove that it can be done. It's up to me—in a way—but I want you to do your share. Will you?"
