lad of the eight but glanced enviously at the smoothly-swinging shell, that looked so trim and so neat. For, in spite of the work expended on the second-hand craft, it showed what it was.
"But it won't be long before we have a better one," thought Tom.
"Row easy, all," came the command from the coach, when the Boxer Hall boat had passed around a bend of the stream. The stroke was slackened, to the relief of all, for, though they were sturdy lads, rowing was a form of exercise to which they were not much accustomed, especially in a shell. The strangeness of the seats, the toe stretchers, and the outriggers added to their confusion, so that the fatigue was almost as much one of attention and brain power as of muscle.
"Now for a turn against the current," remarked the coach, when they had gone on a mile or two more. "This will give you some resistance to work against."
The shell was turned, after a fashion, Mr. Lighton being anxious not to bring too much strain on the outriggers, the turning action always involving this.
"Give way!" came the command, and the shell started back up stream.
This was harder work, but the coach, desiring to know if he had any members on the crew who
