The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sports

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXIX

  THE REGATTA

  "Come on in, Bricktop, and help us settle the row," invited Sid.

  "Row! I should say so!" cried the red-haired lad. "Who's been breakin'up th' furniture?" and he dropped into his broadest brogue.

  "Tom here," laughed Frank. "He isn't satisfied with the way the eightrowed to-day."

  "Faith! an' I guess none of us are," replied Bricktop. And then the fivestudents fell to discussing the matter from all viewpoints. PresentlyHolly Cross dropped in, and then Kindlings, so with nearly the wholevarsity crew present the room was well filled.

  There were opinions _pro_ and _con_, there were periods of doubt, to besucceeded by others of some hope. And the result of it all was that theydecided they had underestimated Boxer Hall's prowess, and would have to"perk-up" and do more and harder practice in the time that was left.

  Communicating this decision to Mr. Lighton the next morning, the ladsfound that he agreed with them.

  "Mr. Pierson and I have talked it over," he said, "and we have come tothe conclusion that to make a shift in the varsity eight now would befatal. We must stand or fall by what we have. It is too late now. And,mind you, I am not so sure that even if there was more time that I wouldmake a shift. I'm certain, in my own mind, that we have a championshipboat. Now it's up to you lads to confirm my belief in you."

  "And we will!" cried Tom, a sentiment that was echoed by his chums.

  Then began at Randall a period of hard and exacting practice, such ashad never been known before. The two coaches were fairly overworked, forby this time the first of the football squads was beginning to form.Many of the rowing lads were to play on the gridiron, but they werecautioned only to do light practice until after the regatta, as it wouldnot do to have them overtrained.

  The weather was exceptionally warm that September, just right for rowingand a little too close for heavy football work, so in one way Randallhad an advantage as regards her crews. It was an advantage, though,shared by her rivals, for both Boxer Hall and Fairview had made up theirseparate minds to be champion of the river.

  Boxer Hall, to be sure, now held this title, having defeated Fairviewin the annual water sports in the Spring. But now with the new tripleleague formed, the title of "champion" was more or less uncertain. Notuntil this Fall regatta could it be definitely settled.

  It had been decided to follow the same rules and customs as obtainedbetween Boxer and Fairview. That is, there were to be a certain numberof races--singles, doubles, the four, and the eight-oared shells, andthe count was to be as follows:

  A total of twenty points was decided on. Winning the eight-oared contestwould count ten, the single shells would add two points, the doublewould count as three and the four would secure five. So that it caneasily be seen that the winning of the eight-oared race meant much. Ofcourse if one college should come out ahead in the singles, doubles andfour-oared races she would have ten points, and should another win theeight, the score would be tied. But the possibility of this was remote.

  In addition there was to be a tub race, which would not count in thechampionship, but for which several prizes were offered.

  But if Randall worked hard, so did her rivals. From the other twocolleges came news of cross-country runs for the improvement of the windof the rowers. The training was reduced to a more scientific basis.It was even rumored that Boxer Hall had imported a well-known physicalinstructor to assist the coach. And Fairview had summoned a number ofold graduates, who had made their marks while at college, to assist inturning out a championship crew or crews.

  Though the other races were regarded as important, most of the interestcentered in the eight. Little was heard but about this shell, which ina way, perhaps, was unfair to the other rowers, who were practicingfaithfully.

  Much was heard about the advantage Boxer Hall and Fairview possessed, inthat they had been rowing on the river for years. In a measure this wastrue, and Randall was under somewhat of a handicap in this respect.

  Yet, in another way, it was a good thing, for Randall came into thegame fresh, without any preconceived notions, and her boys had learnedwhat they knew from the ground up. They were not hampered by collegetraditions as regards a certain stroke, and Mr. Lighton and Mr. Piersonhad developed a logical one--differing somewhat from either Boxer Hall'sor Fairview's--a combination of the two, modeled after the famousCornell stroke.

  And how Tom and his chums did work, train and practice! Lessons sufferedin a way, but the lads were well enough along in college now to knowthat they could make them up that Winter. And Dr. Churchill, bless hisbig heart! Dr. Churchill was not too inquiring. On one occasion Prof.Emerson Tines went to the head of the school to complain that he wouldhave to condition a number of his Latin pupils unless their work showedimprovement.

  "And most of them, my dear Dr. Churchill," he said, "are of the boatingclass. A lot of foolishness--a mere waste of time. It was bad enoughwith baseball and football, but now that rowing has started, it is worsethan ever. I wish those old graduates had never made their gift!"

  "Tut! Tut! My dear Professor!" remonstrated Dr. Churchill. "Rowing isa form of exercise that develops muscles never brought to the owner'sattention in any other way. I have been reading up on the subject sincethe eleven has taken to the shell, and I find that the ancient Romans,in their galleys, had rowing down to a perfection rarely attainedto-day. It is an ancient and honest sport, and I'm sure I hope ournine will win the regatta," and then, good old soul, unaware that hehad mixed the football and baseball squads most woefully with thecrew, turned to his work on his dictionary, which to-be-famous workhad progressed as far as the Cha. to Dem. volume, and bade fair to becompleted in about fifty years, but Dr. Churchill did not think of that.

  The chums were all tired enough this night to sleep, as Sid put it,without being rocked. They had retired early, for there was to be sharppractice the next day.

  Lessons had been gone over, with as much attention as it was possible toconcentrate on them, considering all that was going on, the alarm clockhad been relieved of the "toothpick in its appendix," as Tom remarked,and it was cheerfully ticking away.

  "Queer about that time the clock disappeared, when someone came in ourroom, and you took him for me; isn't it, Tom?" asked Sid, as he got hisshaving apparatus in shape for quick use the next morning.

  "It sure is. We've never had another visit from the unknown."

  "And I hope we don't," put in Phil.

  "Say, did you hear the latest?" asked Frank, as he untied the string ofhis shoe.

  "No, is there going to be another shift in the varsity boat?" asked Phil.

  "No, but a lot of the fellows have been missing little things from theirrooms; scarf pins and the like. And the funny part of it is that it'sall on the next floor of our dormitory. A regular epidemic, one of thefellows was telling me."

  "Have we a kleptomaniac among us?" demanded Sid.

  "Maybe it's one of the new janitors," suggested Tom. "There's one thathas a bad eye."

  "Well, as long as they stay off this floor, we'll be all right,"asserted Sid. "Only we'd better keep our valuables locked up."

  "Anyhow, they can't take the old chairs and sofa," remarked Frank with achuckle. "They're too heavy."

  It seemed to be Tom's fate to see the end of the little happening, as ithad been his to note the beginning. Late that night he was awakened bya noise in the main apartment. At first he paid no attention to it, andthen, as he heard the rustle of papers, he thought of the time he hadfollowed, as he thought, Sid, in the dark, cold corridors.

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed to himself, as he sat up without making the bedcreak. "He's at it again! And this time I'm going to find out who it is!"

  Softly he crept to the door of his room. He saw the same white-cladfigure as before, standing near the window. This time he knew it was notSid, although the two looked much alike. The only sound was the tickingof the alarm clock.

  Then, as Tom watched, the figure approached the table onc
e more. Thechange in the tone of the ticking of the clock told Tom what hadhappened.

  "He's got our clock!" thought Tom. "Here is where I catch himred-handed, so to speak."

  The figure glided from the door into the hallway, and Tom followed,pausing but a moment to make sure that his three chums were in theirbeds. From their opened doors the sounds of three different styles ofbreathing assured him of this. Then he glided on.

  Once more he followed the white-robed figure until it ascended thestairs to the story above, but this time Tom was close behind when thedoor opened.

  "Hold on there!" exclaimed Tom, as the portal was about to close, andreaching forward he laid his hand on the shoulder of a student. "I'lltrouble you for our clock!" said Tom, sternly.

  Then he got one of the surprises of his life. With a startled cry thelad he had grabbed turned about, and his widely opened eyes suddenlychanged their expression--changed so queerly that Tom knew he had thesolution of the mystery.

  "A sleep-walker!" he gasped, as he recognized Harry Johnson, one of theJuniors who did not enter much into the sporting life of Randall. "He'sbeen doing this in his sleep!"

  "What--what is it--where--have I? Oh, I've been at it again!" gasped thelad as he was aroused. "I beg your pardon, Parsons. Hope I haven't doneanything very bad this time."

  "Nothing but our clock, old man. Are you in the habit of doing this?"

  "Not often, though the spell does come on me once in a while. It's arelic of my childhood days. And so I went to your room and took yourclock?"

  "Yes. This is the second time. Do you recall the first?"

  "Not in the least. And yet I must have done so if you saw me. Probablysome night later I went down in the cellar with it and put it on thefurnace. Say, I'm mighty sorry."

  "That's all right. Better lock your door after this."

  "I will. Come in, and tell me what a fool I made of myself."

  Tom, who had on a warm bath robe this time, consented, and in a whisperrelated the details of the first occurrence. Johnson was contrite, andadmitted that it must have been he who had taken the clock, though inhis waking hours he recalled nothing of it.

  "It must have been the tick that attracted me," he explained. "Well, Iguess I'd better take some treatment. Have a glass of ginger ale?"

  "Don't care if I do, though it's breaking training."

  As Johnson got a bottle from a closet he uttered an exclamation ofsurprise.

  "Look here!" he called to Tom. "Where did these things come from?" andin the bottom of a little case, where the bottles had been, he pointedto a collection of things.

  "By Jove!" cried Tom. "I've solved the other mystery! You've been takingthis stuff in your sleep!"

  And so poor Johnson had. There was found all the articles missing fromthe rooms of various students. Johnson had, in his sleep, entered andtaken them, concealing them in a closet, and, in his waking hours,forgetting about them. They were returned the next morning, withsuitable apologies, and the matter was quietly dropped, for the studentsall understood how it could have happened. Johnson consulted a doctor,and was soon cured of his propensity to night wanderings.

  "Well, I'm glad I solved the mystery, since I started it," remarked Tomthe next morning.

  Day after day passed, and the crews of the eights, as well as the otherrowers, fairly lived on the river. The weather was remarkably fine,which was in their favor. Day after day the practice and training werekept up, and the coaches were faithful. A number of the old graduateswho had been instrumental in providing the gift, came to Randall, andoffered suggestions, some of which, being valuable, were adopted.

  And then the natural result followed all this hard work. The time ofthe eight, especially, began to improve. The boys rowed with more snapand vigor. They could stand the "gaff" better, and when Jerry Jackson,sitting crouched up in his coxswain's seat, called for a spurt, therewere not so many "bellows to mend" in the shape of panting lads, asthere had been.

  "We're coming on!" cried Mr. Lighton proudly, at the close of anexciting brush between the first and second boats one day, when thevarsity had won. "We're coming on!"

  "If we can only keep it up," breathed Frank, who, being captain of theeight, as well as stroke, felt his responsibility.

  "Oh, we'll do it, old man," declared Tom, and he succeeded in infusingsome of his spirit into his chums. The faint hearts of the weeks beforehad become strong.

  "But you boys needn't think you are going to win!" declared Ruth, whenthe four lads called on the four girls about a week prior to the dateset for the regatta. "We have a championship crew in the eight, ifnowhere else."

  "Never!" cried Tom. "We're going to win the eight if we lose everythingelse; eh, fellows?"

  "That's what!" his chums chorused.

  "Anyhow, I'm glad of one thing," remarked Ruth, in a low voice to Tom,"Phil is so interested in this rowing game that he hasn't said a wordabout my lost brooch. The other day I had on the new pin I bought totake its place, and he stared at it without making a remark. But, oh,Tom! I wonder if we'll ever find it?"

  "It doesn't look so--not now," replied Tom, mournfully.

  "Never mind," she consoled him. "We did our best."

  "And lost out by a narrow squeak," thought Tom to himself, recalling thepawn tickets and other clues that had gone for naught. The police hadnot been able to get a trace of either Mendez or Blasdell, nor had themissing pawnbroker been found.

  Finally the great day came. The last practice had been held, the lads,not only of Randall, but at the rival colleges, were "trained to theminute." The coaches had made their last appeals.

  "Well, fellows, to-morrow tells the tale," said Frank to his sevenchums, on the night before regatta-day. They had all met in thegymnasium for a final conference with Mr. Lighton, and had partaken of alight lunch.

  "I'm as nervous as a cat," declared Sid.

  "Don't you dare be!" exclaimed the captain of the eight. "But if youmust be--be it now, and steady up for to-morrow. Now off to bed, andeverybody sleep soundly."

  And then regatta-day broke--calm, with a bright sun overhead, a hintof Fall coolness in the air that sent a little tingle through theblood--just the day for the races.