it till she had time to get up to the succour of her aunt.

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST BUMP

"What's the time, Smith?"

"Half-past three, old fellow," answered Diogenes, looking at his
watch.

"I never knew a day go so slowly," said Tom; "isn't it time to go
down to the boats?"

"Not by two hours and more, old fellow--can't you take a book, or
something to keep you quiet? You won't be fit for anything by six
o'clock, if you go on worrying like this." And so Diogenes turned
himself to his flute, and blew away to all appearances as
composedly as if it had been the first week of term, though, if
the truth must be told, it was all he could do not to get up and
wander about in a feverish and distracted state, for Tom's
restlessness infected him.

Diogenes' whole heart was in the college boat; and so, though he
had pulled dozens of races in his time, he was almost as nervous
as a freshman on this the first day of the races. Tom, all
unconscious of the secret discomposure of the other, threw
himself into a chair and looked at him with wonder and envy. The
flute went "toot, toot, toot," till he could stand it no longer.
So he got up and went to the window, and, leaning out, looked up
and down the street for some minutes in a purposeless sort of
fashion, staring hard at everybody and everything, but
unconscious all the time that he was doing so. He would not have
been able in fact, to answer Diogenes a word, had not that worthy
inquired of him what he had seen, when he presently drew in his
head and returned to his fidgety ramblings about the room.

"How hot the sun is! but there's a stiff breeze from the
south-east. I hope it will go down before the evening, don't
you?"

"Yes, this wind will make it very rough below the Gut. Mind you
feather high now at starting."

"I hope to goodness I sha'n't catch a crab," said Tom.

"Don't think about it, old fellow; that's your best plan."

"But I can't think of anything else," said Tom. "What the deuce
is the good of telling a fellow not to think about it?"

Diogenes apparently had nothing particular to reply, for he put
his flute to his mouth again; and at the sound of the "toot,
toot" Tom caught up his gown and fled into the quadrangle.

The crew had had their early dinner of steaks and chops, stale
bread, and a glass and a half of old beer a piece at two o'clock,
in the Captain's rooms. The current theory of training at that
time was--as much meat as you could ea