CHAPTER VIII
RUTH'S LOSS
"Silence number seven--eyes in the boat--on the man in front of you!"
Thus the coach called to Tom, but there was no sting in his words, andthe tall baseball pitcher of Randall knew that it was for the good ofhimself and the crew. Nothing is so important in a race as to save one'swind, and to keep one's eyes fairly glued on the back of the man infront of one. For on unison, and in rowing exactly in time with everyother man in the shell, does the race depend.
"Never mind Boxer Hall," went on Mr. Lighton. "We're going to beat her,but we won't unless we learn how to keep our eyes in our own boat.Steady there, Sid!"
On came the Boxer Hall eight. They were rowing down the stream, as wereour friends, but the rival college shell was in the rear, having gone upstream earlier in the day, being now on the return trip.
"Don't try to race them when they pass us," cautioned Mr. Lighton, whohad not even turned his head to see the approaching shell behind him."It will be a temptation, I know, but we are not ready for a spurt yet."
"Are we going to let them pass us?" demanded the rich lad, almostforgetting to row.
"Don't talk!" came sharply from the coxswain. "It's your business torow, Boswell, if you want to be in this eight. You almost lost a strokethen, and see how the boat slews! I have to shift the rudder to correctit, and in a race that might mean the loss of considerable distance.Pick up your stroke, and don't race!"
The face of the rich lad expressed disappointment, and his was notthe only one. Certainly it was a bit galling to let Boxer Hall--theirancient rival--pass them, and the first time Randall was out in hereight, too!
But afterward all admitted the wisdom of the course taken by the coach.They were in no condition to race, and, green as most of them were as tohow to behave in a tricky shell, they might have had an upset. Not theywould have minded that, but they would have been the laughing-stock ofBoxer Hall.
On came the rivals, the oars being feathered beautifully. They tookthe water with that peculiar chugging sound that always denotes awell-trained crew.
"Listen, all of you," advised Mr. Lighton in a low voice. "That's what Imean by the 'rotten-egg' sound. It's when the oar blade is plunged underwater as you begin your stroke. Try to attain it--after they pass."
The Boxer Hall lads, rowing perhaps a trifle faster than they had beendoing, sitting perhaps a trifle straighter, and pulling a bit harder--anatural showing off--came opposite the shell containing our friends ofRandall.
"Want to try a little spurt?" called Dave Ogden, from the coxswain'sseat.
"No, thank you--we're just out for practice. It's our first spin,"replied Mr. Lighton. "Some other time."
"Why not now?" murmured Boswell.
"Silence in the bow!" exclaimed the coach, sharply.
"You're a martinet!" retorted the rich lad, but in so low a voice thatonly Phil, sitting in front of him, heard.
Not a lad in the Boxer Hall shell spoke, though several nodded infriendly fashion at their acquaintances in the Randall boat. They wereevidently well trained, and were saving their wind.
On they rowed, passing those who hoped to prove themselves formidablerivals by the following Fall. And in spite of the command of Mr. Lightonfor all eyes to be in the boat, hardly a lad of the eight but glancedenviously at the smoothly-swinging shell, that looked so trim and soneat. For, in spite of the work expended on the second-hand craft, itshowed what it was.
"But it won't be long before we have a better one," thought Tom.
"Row easy, all," came the command from the coach, when the Boxer Hallboat had passed around a bend of the stream.
The stroke was slackened, to the relief of all, for, though they weresturdy lads, rowing was a form of exercise to which they were not muchaccustomed, especially in a shell. The strangeness of the seats, the toestretchers, and the outriggers added to their confusion, so that thefatigue was almost as much one of attention and brain power as of muscle.
"Now for a turn against the current," remarked the coach, when they hadgone on a mile or two more. "This will give you some resistance to workagainst."
The shell was turned, after a fashion, Mr. Lighton being anxious notto bring too much strain on the outriggers, the turning action alwaysinvolving this.
"Give way!" came the command, and the shell started back up stream.
This was harder work, but the coach, desiring to know if he had anymembers on the crew who were likely to prove of less service than theothers, kept them all up to a good stroke. There was some panting whenthe float was reached, a larger crowd than before being there to welcomethe first tentative crew. But, to do the lads justice, not one but hadstood the strain well, even the fault-finding Boswell.
"Well rowed for the first time!" complimented Mr. Lighton. "Now, then,a good shower bath and a rub-down, and then some light exercise to keepfrom getting stiff, for you have used muscles to-day that seldom cameinto play before. Now who's for another crew?" and he picked out eightmore lads, who went off in the shell.
"That was great!" cried Tom, as, with his three particular chums hestarted for the gymnasium.
"It sure was," agreed Sid. "I never thought I could do so well."
"And I never knew I could do so rotten!" came from Frank. "I used tothink I was some pumpkins with an oar, but this has taken all theconceit out of me."
"Same here," agreed Phil. "But I think we're on the right road."
"Boxer Hall did fine," went on Tom. "I give them credit for that. I wishwe'd started at rowing years ago. It's a shame it was so neglected atRandall."
"It was dandy of those old grads to think to put us in the way of itonce more," went on Sid. "We'll have to pass them a vote of thanks."
Thus talking the boys went into the gymnasium, whence they emerged alittle later, glowing, and feeling the spring and buoyancy of youth.
"Hello, what's this?" asked Phil, as they entered their room, and sawsome letters on the table.
"From the girls!" cried Tom, as he saw a certain hand-writing.
"Here, you've got mine!" declared Frank, making a grab for the epistlein Sid's hand.
"Beg your pardon old man--so I have. I'll trade," and soon the four ladswere busy perusing four notes.
"They're going to have a dance," spoke Tom. "A week from to-night. Willwe go? I guess yes! That is, I don't think we have any date for thatevening."
"If I have I'll break it," said Sid, quickly.
"Listen to the old misogynist--him as wouldn't used to speak to a girl!"cried Phil. "Oh, what a change! What a change!"
"Dry up!" commanded Sid, making a reach for his chum, who nimbly escapedby leaping behind the sofa.
"Say, this is pretty indefinite," went on Tom. "They just ask us tocome, and don't say who's to take who, or anything like that."
"And there are a new lot of fellows at Fairview," said Frank. "I movethat we go over and make sure of our girls. I don't want to get left."
"I should have thought Ruth would be more definite," put in Phil. "Butsay, we've got time to run over and back before grub. Come on."
Regardless of the fact that they had just come in from a hard row, theysoon got into their "semi-best suits," as Sid called them, and hurriedto the trolley that would land them at the co-educational institution.
"There are the girls!" exclaimed Tom, who, being in the lead, as he andhis chums crossed the campus a little later, saw the four; Ruth, MadgeTyler, Mabel Harrison and Helen Newton.
They paired off--as they always did--and soon were walking in differentdirections. Tom was with Ruth Clinton, and after the matter of the dancehad been settled, and she had agreed to accompany him, as doubtless theother girls had done for the other lads, the tall pitcher, with a glanceat his pretty companion remarked:
"New pin, Ruth? Where did you get it?" and he looked at hercollar-fastening.
"Hush!" she exclaimed, looking quickly around. "Don't tell Phil!"
"Why not?" Tom wanted to know. "Doesn't he want you to have
jewelry?"
"Yes, but listen, you remember that dear old-fashioned brooch I used towear? The one with the secret spring in the back, that, when you pressedon it, showed a little picture of me. Do you remember that?"
"Do I? I should say I did! And how you dropped it at a dance once, and Ihad to crawl down under the palms in the conservatory to get it."
"And you in your dress suit, poor boy!" and Ruth laughed. "I should sayyou might well remember it. But, Tom, this is serious," and she grewgrave at once. "I've lost that brooch!"
"Lost it--how?"
"Or, rather, it's been stolen, and I don't dare tell Phil. You know theclasp was broken, or something was the matter with it. That's the reasonit fell off that time you had to hunt for it."
"And did it drop again? Tell me where, and I'll search until----"
"No, Tom, it wouldn't do any good," and Ruth sighed.
"Why not?"
"Because it's been stolen!"
"Stolen!"
"Yes. Listen. I feel dreadfully about it. You know it was a gift frommy grandmother. She is a dear, old-fashioned lady, and she has lots oflovely old-fashioned jewelry. She always said she disliked the presentstyles, and when she gave me that pin she made me promise to wear it,and never be ashamed of it, even if it was a century old.
"Of course I promised, for the pin _was_ a beauty. And grandmotheralways said that if I took good care of it, and wore it whenever I wentout, she would leave me her lovely string of pearls. Of course I wouldhave worn the pin without that. And now it's been taken!"
"Taken! By someone here at college?"
"Hush, not so loud! I gave it to a jeweler, a Mr. Farson, inHaddonfield, to repair the clasp, and I just got word from him to-daythat it was taken. So I had to buy another pin to fasten my collar with,and I'm so afraid Phil will notice it; or that grandmother may hearabout it! She'll say I'm careless."
"Did Farson have your brooch?" cried Tom.
"Yes. Why?"
"And did he tell you how it was taken?"
"Well, he said it was taken with a lot of other things that he hadcollected from his customers to repair. He offered to get me another,but of course I never can get one like that."
"Say!" exclaimed Tom, greatly excited. "Your pin must have been in thatbox he left in his motor-boat, when the craft was wrecked on CrestIsland and when the Boxer Hall cups were taken. By Jove! This bringsthat robbery home to me all right!" and Tom looked strangely at Ruth.
The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sports Page 9
