“That’s so,” answered Carl. “Another two weeks and it’ll be all over, and good-by to old Hillton. It’s funny how sorry it makes a chap. That’s the odd thing about it; it doesn’t seem so fine until you have to leave it all. I wonder if I’ll have as good a time at college?” “I know,” mused Dick sentimentally, “it’s almost like leaving home. I wish--I wish I was going to stay another year!” “My, you’re funny,” quoth Stewart. “Catch me being sorry when I get through!” “Wait; you will be,” answered Carl. “There’s a whole raft of fellows going up to Harwell this year, isn’t there? Do you know anything about your room yet, Dick?” “No; I guess I’ll find a small one near the Yard for this year. When Trevor comes he and I are going to room together, aren’t we, old chap?” “If you’re good,” answered his chum gravely. When hostilities had ended Carl said reminiscently: “It’s been a pretty good year for Hillton, hasn’t it?” “So far; if you only beat St. Eustace at baseball, and if we can only win on the river it’ll be the best year on record, I guess. We certainly did her up finely at the interscholastic meet, eh?” “I should say so! Forty-three points to twenty-nine! And little Stew here to thank for ten of them. Take off your hat, Stew!” “’Tis off.” “I’ll never forget the way in which he ran away from that St. Eustace fellow in the half-mile,” continued Carl, smiling. “And to think that when he came here three years ago he couldn’t turn the door-knob without using both hands!” “Oh, dry up,” said Stewart. “I guess you’re pretty certain to beat St. Eustace at baseball, aren’t you, Carl?” “Yes, pretty certain; barring accidents we ought to have little trouble. We play Shrewsburg again Saturday, and I believe we’ll shut her out.” “Don’t get too confident,” warned Dick. “No fear; and I don’t talk like this before the fellows. But we’ve really got the finest lot of players that I ever saw.” “I know. Well, if you get both games from St. Eustace your name will go down to posterity in red letters with a wreath about it. I only wish I was as hopeful as you are.” “Old Dick wouldn’t let himself get hopeful if we had a boatful of tailor’s dummies to row against,” said Trevor. “There isn’t any possibility of our getting beaten on the fifteenth--barring accidents.” “But the trouble is we can’t bar accidents,” replied Dick. “They will happen even in the best regulated of crews. Somebody’s certain to take sick or sprain his wrist or something.” “Isn’t he an old granny?” asked Trevor disgustedly. “I hear you had a shake-up yesterday?” queried Carl. “A little one; Kirk took Milton out and is trying Cheever at three. And he dropped Rankin from the second eight. That was all. I guess we’ll row about the way we are now. St. Eustace’s coach read the riot act last week, they say; dumped two men out of the boat and raked every one over the coals. Oh, well, we’ll know all about it in a couple of weeks.”