with matter for gossip such as it
had not enjoyed for many a long day.

CHAPTER II

The Races

"Well, Stroke?" asked the Benson's cox, as the two slowly made their way
from the boat-house towards the school. "What's to do now? I'm afraid
we're done for. Mind," he went on in another tone, "I'm not blaming you.
Any other fellow with a spark of spirit in him would have jibbed. But
have you counted the cost?"

"Yes, Dale, I've counted the cost, and know what I'm going to do."

"So?"

"Three must come down to Seven and Franklin must come into the boat at
Three. If only we had a week of practice before us I should not fear for
the result, but to-morrow----"

Stroke's voice died away as he dug his hands deeply into his trousers
pockets and walked moodily on. Suddenly he turned to his companion:
"After all," he said, "we may stand a chance. If not on the first day or
two of the races, then on the last. Rout out Franklin for me, Dale, and
tell him what's afoot, and that we row at seven this evening with him at
Three. Then tell the others. There'll be no hard work, only a paddle to
help Franklin find the swing. One thing--he's fit enough."

"Yes, and I must say we have you to thank for that, old boy. Those runs
before breakfast that used to make Monty so savage have done us a good
turn by keeping Franklin fit, not to mention the occasional tubbing we
have given him."

"Aye, he's not bad; and if the rest of the crew buck up well we may yet
do things. Now good-bye, Dale, until seven o'clock! See that every man
is ready stripped sharp to time for me, for I must now see Benson, and
tell him all my plans."

The further news that Benson's were going out again with their spare man
at Three, coming upon the sensational story of the quarrel between
Stroke and Seven, spread like wildfire through the school. Every boy who
was at all interested in the Eights--and who was not?--made a note of
the matter, and promised himself that he would be there and see the fun
for himself.

When seven o'clock arrived, therefore, the tow-path in front of Benson's
boat-house was thronged with boys; some there in a spirit of foreboding,
to see how their own crew shaped after its heavy misfortune, some to
rejoice at the evidence they expected to see of the impending
discomfiture of a redoubtable foe, some to jeer generally, and others--a
few, but the more noisy--in out-and-out hostility to the crew which had
turned out from among its num