"Well, last night I was going round about half-past ten to see that all the crew were in their beds. When I came to H, New Court, I found a devil of a row going on in Muggeridge's rooms--directly under Duncombe's, you know." "Yes. Go on," said all, much interested. "There was a meeting of The Owls on," continued Dishy, "and they'd had the nerve to hold it on a staircase where there were actually two men of the crew--Duncombe and Eversley--trying to get to sleep." "What did you do?" inquired Poltimore. "Went in and reminded them. I thought they might have forgotten." "What did they say?" "They told me to go to--" "Good Lord!" said the audience, genuinely horrified at the employment of such language by a non-athletic to an athletic man. The Owls were a collection of rather dissipated young nobodies, while Dishy wore a Leander tie, which in a rowing college entitles a man to something like reverence. "I soon found it was a put-up job," continued the coxswain. "They had some grudge against Duncombe, and wanted to score him off. I could hear him hammering on his bedroom floor above to make them dry up." "What did you do then?" "I explained to them exactly what I thought of them," replied the coxswain simply. "What did you say, exactly?" Dishy told them. They smacked their lips appreciatively, and the next question followed pat. "And what did _they_ do?" "Well, they were a bit far gone--" "Drunken sweeps!" remarked the virtuous Gussie, who belonged to a rival institution. "Yes. They were a bit far gone," repeated the coxswain, with the air of one endeavouring to explain an otherwise unaccountable circumstance, "and they--well, they hove me out, in fact. There were nine of them," he added, in the manner of one who is not quite sure if his excuse will be accepted. "And then?" "Then I went straight off to old Hughie's rooms"--there was a respectful intaking of breath by the company: most of the College were wont to refer to the gentleman in question as Marrable--"and knocked him up. He had just gone to bed." "What did he do?" came the question, in lively anticipation of the recital to come. "Put on a few things over his pyjamas, and came along with me." The audience sighed ecstatically. "What happened?" said Poltimore. "Well, things were getting a bit lively by the time we arrived. Just as we got to the foot of the stair we were greeted by Muggeridge's oak, which some playful fellow had taken off its hinges and thrown over the banisters. However, we dodged that and raced up to the first floor. "You could have heard a pin drop when we walked into the room. One or two of them looked a bit green, though, when they saw what a towering passion Hughie was in. Still, Muggeridge was sober enough, and tried to talk it off. He stood up, and said, 'Hallo, Marrable! This is splendid! You are just in time to drink to the success of the crew to-morrow. We're all sportsmen here. Come on, you chaps--no heeltaps!'