s almost abreast with
Number Three's oar, while cries of encouragement from bridge and shore
urged her on. But now Green, the Hillton coxswain, turned his head
slightly, studied the position of the rival eight, glanced ahead at the
judges' boat, and spoke a short, sharp command.

And instantly, ragged port oars notwithstanding, the crimson crew seemed
to lift their boat from the water at every stroke, and St. Eustace,
struggling gamely, heroically, to the last moment, fell farther and
farther behind. A half length of clear water showed between them, then a
length, then--and now the line was but a stone-throw away--two fair
lengths separated the contestants. And amid the deafening, frenzied
shrieks of their schoolmates, their crimson-clad backs rising and
falling like clock-work, all signs of raggedness gone, the eight heroes
swept over the line winners by two and a half lengths from the St.
Eustace crew, and disappeared under the bridge to emerge on the other
side with trailing oars and wearied limbs.

And as they went from sight, Joel, stooping, yelling, over the railing,
saw, with the piercing shriek of the launch's whistle in his ears, the
upraised face of Green, the coxswain, smiling placidly up at him.

CHAPTER XVI.

GOOD-BY TO HILLTON.

Joel took the preliminary examination for Harwell University in June,
and left class day morning for home. He had the satisfaction of seeing
his name in the list of honor men for the year, having attained A or B
in all studies for the three terms. The parting with Outfield West was
shorn of much of its melancholy by reason of the latter's promise to
visit Joel in August. The suggestion had been made by Outfield, and Joel
had at once warmly pressed him to come.

"Only, you know, Out," Joel had said, "we don't live in much style. And
I have to work a good deal, so there won't be much time for fun."

"What do you have to do?" asked West.

"Well, milk, and go to mill, and perhaps there will be threshing to do
before I leave. And then there's lots of other little things around the
farm that I generally do when I'm home."

"That's all right," answered West cheerfully. "I'll help. I milked a cow
once. Only--Say, what do you hit a cow with when you milk her?"

"I don't hit her at all," laughed Joel. "Do you?"

"I _did_. I hit her with a plank and she up and kicked me eight times
before I could move off. Perhaps I riled her. I thought you should
always hit them before y