B. Downs Stroke 18 147 H. L. Price 7 17 142 A. J. Richardson 6 17 145 T. Wells 5 16 162 P. H. Garrity 4 17 161 A. R. Noland 3 16 143 R. F. Gerstner 2 18 139 W. A. Overton Bow 17 133 D. E. Perine Coxswain 18 98 ---- ---- Average for eight 17 146½ Trevor read the tables and laid down the copy of the Marshall Morning Reporter with a sigh and stared across the little lawn at the village street. Muggins worried the newspaper for a moment, and then, observing Trevor’s attitude, cuddled up to him in sympathy, and thumped the porch floor with what, had it been in his power, he would have called his tail. The paper fluttered off across the gravel driveway, and he cocked his ears, meditating pursuit; but Trevor’s hand had now found his head; the sun was warm; it was comforting to be rubbed; and so he only blinked sleepily and sat quiet. Saturday, the 15th of June, had dawned warm and clear. Over the river a little blue mist hung until a strong breeze swept across the water from the west, kicking up quite a rumpus along the eastern shore. The town was already well filled with visitors, among them not a few graduates of Hillton and St. Eustace, who had arrived the preceding evening. The quiet old village was decked in holiday attire, and its shrewd innkeepers and merchants were rubbing their hands in anticipation of the yearly harvest. Three of the Hillton crew had complained at the breakfast table that morning of having lame backs, while Talbot, a substitute, was clearly out of the question, having no appetite and not a little fever. “I always said there was malaria in this place,” complained Kirk, “it’s so low. We had some trouble last year, do you remember, Hope? Benson was attacked with fever, although it left him at noon and he was all right again. That’s where St. Eustace has the better of us; she’s used to this place, and we’re not. I believe it wouldn’t be a half bad plan next year to leave coming here until the morning of the race.”