amed into
something like enthusiasm), many of other colleges, whose boats
have no chance of bumping or being bumped, flock to the point of
attraction.

"Do you make out what the change is?" says a backer of Oriel to
his friend in the like predicament.

"Yes, they've got a NO.5, don't you see, and, by George, I don't
like his looks," answered his friend; "awfully long and strong in
the arm, and well ribbed up. A devilish awkward customer. I shall
go and try to get a hedge."

"Pooh," says the other, "did you ever know one man win a race?"

"Ay, that I have," says his friend, and walks off toward the
Oriel crowd to take five to four on Oriel in half-sovereigns, if
he can get it.

Now their dark friend of yesterday comes up at a trot, and pulls
up close to the Captain, with whom he is evidently dear friends.
He is worth looking at, being coxswain of the O. U. B., the best
steerer, runner and swimmer in Oxford; amphibious himself and
sprung from an amphibious race. His own boat is in no danger, so
he has left her to take care of herself. He is on the look-out
for recruits for the University crew, and no recruiting sergeant
has a sharper eye for the sort of stuff he requires.

"What's his name?" he says in a low tone to Jervis, giving a jerk
with his head towards Hardy. "Where did you get him?"

"Hardy," answers the Captain, in the same tone; "it's his first
night in the boat."

"I know that," replies the coxswain; "I never saw him row before
yesterday. He's the fellow who sculls in that brown skiff, isn't
he?"

"Yes, and I think he'll do; keep your eye on him."

The coxswain nods as if he were somewhat of the same mind, and
examines Hardy with the eye of a connoisseur, pretty much as the
judge at an agricultural show looks at the prize bull. Hardy is
tightening the strop of his stretcher, and all-unconscious of the
compliments which are being paid him. The great authority seems
satisfied with his inspection, grins, rubs his hands, and trots
off to the Oriel boat to make comparisons.

Just as the first gun is heard, Grey sidles nervously to the
front of the crowd as if he were doing something very audacious,
and draws Hardy's attention, exchanging sympathizing nods with
him, but saying nothing, for he knows not what to say, and then
disappearing again in the crowd.

"Hallo, Drysdale, is that you?" says Blake, as they push off from
the shore. "I thought you were going to take it easy in a punt."

"So I thou