ow spirits. He had been
baulked, and worse than that, he felt other hands were playing their
game more successfully, and that amongst them all young Wyndham was
going wrong.

So the eve of the great boat-race was anything but a cheerful evening
for the new captain.

But with the morning even Riddell could hardly harbour any thoughts
outside the event of the day. Morning school that Wednesday was a farce
all over Willoughby. Even the doctor seemed absent-minded, while one or
two of the junior masters gave up the attempt in despair.

The race was fixed for three o'clock, when the tide would be running up
at its fastest, and long before that hour every advantageous point of
view on the banks was secured by eager spectators. These were by no
means all Willoughby boys, for the school boat-race was always more or
less of an event in Shellport itself, whose inhabitants flocked in large
numbers to the scene of the contest.

Carnages lined the banks on either side for a considerable distance, and
as usual the doctor's party assembled in great force on Willow Point.
The towing-path was jealously kept clear for the schoolboys, who trooped
down in force the moment after lunch, and took possession of their
places along the course. Some crowded at the starting-point. These
were chiefly the more athletic heroes of the school, whose flannels and
running-shoes bespoke their intention of following the race on foot.
Others, less actively inclined, massed at various critical points along
the course, some at the finish, but more opposite Willow Point, which
being just three-quarters of the way down, and almost within view of the
goal, was generally considered the most advantageous point of view of
the whole race.

At this point, in a snug corner above the path, with a fine view of the
sharp bend of the river, and of the reaches up and down stream which met
there, sat Gilks and Silk. They knew probably as well as any one that
the crisis of the race was pretty sure to be played out at Willow
Corner, and not a few late comers looked up at their commanding perch
with envy.

"Where's the young 'un?" said Silk.

"Running with the race," said Gilks. "I couldn't dissuade him. He's
gone daft over the thing."

Silk laughed.

"I'm afraid it'll be a blow to him, then. Young fool. I say, he was at
his father confessor's last night. I wonder if he'll let out about
Saturday night?"

"Not he. That is," said Gilks, viciously, "I d