There ensued an awkward pause, while Messrs. Gussie and Towzer, nervously conscious of the presence of a stranger to whom they were about to be presented, looked intently at their boots and waited for the introduction to take place. The gentleman previously addressed as Dishy-Washy, a diminutive youth with wizened features,--his name was Dishart-Watson,--cleared his throat. "Introduce my brother," he said huskily. "Mr. Poltimore--Mr. Angus!" The gentlemen indicated shook hands with the visitor, and Mr. Angus, after a mental effort, inquired:-- "Come to see us go Head?" He giggled deprecatingly, to show that he did not really mean this. "Hope so," said Dishy-Washy's brother politely. "I hear you've got a pretty hot crew," he added. "First chop," said Mr. Poltimore. "You just arrived?" "Yes; down from town this morning." "Oh! live there?" "Er--yes." "Oxford man," interpolated Dishy-Washy swiftly. "Sent down," he added in extenuation. The other two nodded sympathetically, and the conversation proceeded more briskly. "_Are_ you going to catch those chaps to-night, Dishy?" inquired Mr. Angus earnestly. "Don't know," replied Dishy-Washy, who as coxswain of the St. Benedict's boat enjoyed a position of authority and esteem in inverse ratio to his inches. "Duncombe's a good enough little oar, but you can't expect a man who weighs nine stone ten to stroke the boat and pull it along too. Of course, if we had anything we could call a Six! As for old Puffin--" "Fourteen stone of tripe!" interpolated Mr. Angus, the gentleman in Athletic Dress. "Lord help the boat!" he added bitterly. It may be mentioned in passing that Mr. Angus's athletic achievements were rather overstated by his costume. His blazer was that of a college club of twelve members, admission to which was strictly limited to gentlemen who could absorb a gallon of beer at a draught, and whose first rule stated that any member who committed the _bêtise_ of taking a degree, however humble, should pay to the club a fine of five pounds. "Still," said Towzer hopefully, "there's always Marrable." Everybody--even the gentleman who had been sent down from Oxford--cheered up at this reflection. "By gum!" said the coxswain with sudden enthusiasm, "he's a wonder! You should have seen him in the boat yesterday. He was rowing a blade that simply lifted the whole of bow side along by itself; and besides that he was coaching Stroke all the time--telling him when to swing out and when to quicken, and bucking him up generally; and on the top of all that he found time every now and then to turn round and curse old Six. I tell you, he's a wonder. Did you hear about him last night?" "I did hear some yarn," said Angus. "Went and smashed up The Owls, didn't he?" "Smashed up?" Dishy's saturnine features expanded into a smile that was almost benevolent. "My lad, _have_ you seen Muggeridge's alabaster brow this morning?" Mr. Muggeridge was the president of "The Owls" Wine Club. "No."