to lay hands on several pewters full of porter, passed
through the house into the quoit and skittle-grounds behind.
These were already well filled with men of other crews, playing
in groups or looking on at the players. One of these groups, as
they passed, seized on the Captain, and Miller stopped with him;
the rest of the St. Ambrose men, in no humor for skittles,
quoits, or any relaxation except rest and grumbling, took
possession of the first table and seats offered, and came to
anchor.

Then followed a moment of intense enjoyment, of a sort only
appreciable by those who have had a twelve miles' training pull
with a coxswain as sharp as a needle, and in an awful temper.

"Ah," said Drysdale, taking the pewter down from his lips, with a
sigh, and handing it to Tom who sat next him, "by Jove I feel
better."

"It's almost worth while pulling 'hard all' from Abingdon to get
such a thirst," said another of the crew.

"I'll tell you what, though," said Drysdale, "to-day's the last
day you'll catch me in this blessed boat."

Tom had just finished his draught, but did not reply; it was by
no means the first time that Drysdale had announced this resolve.
The rest were silent also.

"It's bad enough to have to pull your heart out, without getting
abused all the way into the bargain. There Miller stands in the
stern--and a devilish easy thing it is to stand there and walk
into us--I can see him chuckle as he comes to you and me,
Brown--'Now, 2, well forward;' '3, don't jerk;' 'Now 2, throw
your weight on the oar; come, now, you can get another pound on.'
I hang on like grim Death,--then its 'Time, 2; now, 3-'"

"Well, it's a great compliment," broke in Tom, with a laugh; "he
thinks he can make something of us."

"He'll make nothing of us first, I think," said Drysdale. "I've
lost eight pounds in a fortnight. The Captain ought to put me in
every place in the boat, in turn, to make it water-tight. I've
larded the bottom boards under my seat so that not a drop of
water will ever come through again."

"A very good thing for you, old fellow," said Diogenes; "you look
ten times better than you did at the beginning of the term."

"I don't know what you call a good thing, you old fluter. I'm
obliged to sit on my hip bones--I can't go to a lecture--all the
tutors think I am poking fun at them, and put me on directly. I
haven't been able to go to lecture these ten days."

"So fond of lecture as he is, too, poor fellow,"