ved for another chapter. We, however, read then, in the faces of
the discomfited antagonists, as plainly as you read here--

"To be continued."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

BEFORE THE BOAT-RACE--CLUMP'S STORY.

The _day_ before the eighteenth was a Monday. In consideration of
beginning a week's study to have it broken off again on Tuesday, and
because of the many preparations there were to make for the great day,
Mr Clare gave us the two holidays. We had our swim and boat-practice
on Monday morning, and then set to work to make arrangements for the
next day, every one taking a part with real zest. First the boat was
carefully hauled up on the shore, and turned over on a way of joists we
had prepared for her. The bottom was then carefully washed, and, after
that, thoroughly rubbed with the sand-paper--about an hour's work, at
which we all had a hand. Having got the sides and keel beautifully
smooth in that way, Clump brought a kettle of pure grease, which was
placed over a little fire of driftwood, and when the grease had become
liquid, Walter, with a large fine paint-brush, anointed the entire
boat's bottom in a most painstaking manner. We boys stood by, entering
into the operation, which was supposed to prove wonderfully efficacious
in increasing our boat's speed, with great interest, and Clump bent over
the kettle, stirring the oil, and puffing at the short stern of his pipe
eagerly.

Grouped with such absorbing concern about the body of the boat, Walter
moving slowly from stem to stern, and stern to stem, laying on the magic
oil, (unctuous of victory to our noses), with steady sweeps, and the
bent figure of black old Clump beside the caldron, from which rose a
curling smoke, we must have made a tableau of heathen offering
sacrifice, or some other savage mystery.

The all-important job was at length completed, and we left our ark of
many hopes to rest until the exciting hour of the morrow.

Clump was a sharer in our great expectations. His heart was set upon
our success. He had to fill his pipe again before we left the boat, and
pulled at it nervously and wrinkled his black skin into countless
puckers as he walked beside us, thinking of the vast interests at stake
and listening to our excited conversation. As we left him to go over to
the town for a small cannon we had borrowed to fire the signals, he
touched Walter on the sleeve, and said in the most slow and earnest
manner, as he drew the pipe from his mou