draw in their horns, and return to a
straight course too, having lost some little ground in the process.
Still, they seemed to be forging ahead, and the shouts from the banks
announced that thus far, at any rate the Parkhurst boat was getting the
worst of it.

I stole a look at Blades. His face was composed and unconcerned, and it
was easy to see he knew what he was about. He kept up his long steady
swing, being well backed up by the three men behind him, and lifted the
boat well at the beginning of the stroke, never letting it down till the
end. I could see that he knew exactly how far the others were ahead,
and at what rate they were rowing; and yet he neither quickened nor
altered his stroke, but plodded on with such a look of easy confidence
that I at once felt quite satisfied in my own mind as to the result. It
was not long before our opponents gave indication of abating somewhat
the quick stroke they had hitherto maintained, and by virtue of which
they had already got nearly a boat's length ahead. At the same moment
Blades slightly quickened his stroke, and instantly our boat began to
crawl up alongside that of our rivals, amid the frantic cheers of the
onlookers. Slowly and surely we forged ahead, till our stroke's oar was
level with their coxswain. Then a spurt from the Old Boys kept the two
boats abreast for a few seconds, but it died away after a little, and
once more their boat travelled slowly back, as we drew level, and began
in our turn to take the lead. Now was our time to--

What is that ahead on the water, drifting right across the bows of our
boat? A shout from the banks apprises me that others besides myself
have taken the sudden alarm. An empty boat, insecurely moored to the
bank, has got adrift, and is calmly floating up with the tide in mid-
stream along our very course! What is to be done? The other boat,
being on the opposite side, can easily clear the obstacle, but not so
ours. Either we must put our bows across our enemy's water, and so run
the risk of a "foul," and consequent defeat, or else we must lose ground
by slackening our pace and going out of our course to avoid the unlucky
boat. There are not ten seconds in which to decide; but that suffices
me to choose the latter alternative, trusting to the rowing powers of
our crew to make up the disadvantage.

"Look to your oars, stroke side!" I cry, and at the same time pull my
rudder line quickly.

It was as I expected. The