In the open air Trevor’s headache lessened, and he felt much better. Dick, who had been plainly anxious about him, found encouragement from his fresher looks and heaved a sigh of relief. As they paddled slowly up the river a sound of distant cheering reached them, and at a command from Keene they rested upon their oars and glanced up-stream and across to the St. Eustace boat-house. The rival eight were stepping into their shell. One after another the blue-clad youths took their places. Then they put out into the stream and dropped down the river toward the Hillton boat. “There’s a good deal of splashing there,” said Dick. “Yes.” Keene watched the oncoming crew attentively. “Yes, port side’s terribly ragged. But they look a powerful lot. Touch her easy, Seven. That’ll do.” At a little distance up-stream the St. Eustace shell made a wide turn, the eight rowers for a moment resting upon their oars and sending a hearty cheer across the blue water. Hillton returned the compliment and her rival moved away again. “They look a bit heavier than us,” said Shield from the bow of the boat. “Only about a pound,” answered Dick, watching the shell creep up-stream; “that is, according to their weights, you know. But I’ll wager that Richardson weighs more than a hundred and forty-five.” “Yes, and Wells is more than seventeen years old,” said Taylor. “I dare say. What time is it, Keene?” “Five after.” “Well, let’s go up. By Jove, fellows, what a day for it!” Dick took a deep breath of the brisk, invigorating air, sweet with the fragrance of lush meadows and moist woods, and turned smilingly to Taylor. “How do you feel?” “Too good to describe,” answered Number 7 heartily. “I could row ten miles instead of two.” “Good boy,” said Dick. He gazed up the length of the shell. Answering smiles met him from bright eyes and glowing faces, save in one case. Trevor grinned broadly; he even essayed a wink; but the grin was somewhat awry and the wink was a poor thing. Dick frowned, and, turning, gripped his oar with his exuberance lessened. “Ready all! Forward! Paddle!” The shell crept up-stream between banks sprinkled with spectators, hurrying, in most cases, toward the finish line or some midway point of vantage. At the start quite a throng had assembled to see the boats get away. The Terrible, bearing a number of Hillton representatives, chugged alongside, and from her deck Kirk gave his last commands in low tones to Dick and Keene. Then he spoke briefly to the crew, and a moment later both shells backed to the starting-line.