“Pooh! never mind what he’s got into his head; tell him we need him in the boat; make him understand that it’s his duty, Hope. And I tell you we _do_ need him, my boy; never saw such an unpromising lot of fellows at Hillton. That man you had at seven to-day couldn’t fill the place in the boat; he’s too light; don’t think he has the grit for it, even if he learned to put some power into his stroke, which he doesn’t at present. You’ve got a good man at bow; what’s his name? Shield? Well, he’s promising. And Three, I like Three’s looks; seems to be in earnest, though he has a deuce of a queer way of throwing his body around the boat.” “That’s Nesbitt,” explained Dick. “He’s English, and has rowed some at home; I believe he finds our stroke rather difficult; but I think he’ll do well; he’s my roommate, and I know that he’s the sort of fellow that’ll keep on trying until he gets what he’s after.” Kirk nodded approvingly. “I shouldn’t wonder. English, eh? That explains that body-swing of his, I suppose. Well, I guess he’ll turn out well, though I believe he’ll do better at four when we get into the water. Now, I’ll have a look at the other squad.” “It’s all very well for Kirk to talk about making Taylor come back,” said Dick to himself that evening, “but I wish he had it to do. However, I suppose I’ll have to make a stab at it. But I’d rather have a tooth pulled. We do need him, though, and that’s a fact, and what I’ve got to do is forget what I like and don’t like, and work for the crew. I’ll go around and see him to-morrow. No, by Jove, I’ll go to-night; there’s no time like the present for anything disagreeable!” And he jumped up, threw aside his book, and began to struggle into his coat. Trevor glanced up in surprise. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Over to the village to see Taylor.” “Phew! what a growl; want me to go along?” “No, not unless you want to sit on the steps and wait for me; I’ve got to see him about something private.” Trevor grinned. “Fancy, now! Honest, Dick, if you’re going to punch his head, I’d like blooming well to help you.” “I dare say,” laughed his roommate, “but I’m not going to punch his head. Coming along?” “And sit on the front doorstep in this weather and twiddle my thumbs? I fancy not, my dear. As the vulgar manner of speech hath it, ‘Guess again!’” And Trevor snuggled up ostentatiously to the warmth of the blaze. But after Dick had taken his departure he laid down his book and eyed the flames thoughtfully. “I rather wish I had gone along,” he muttered. “It’s just possible that he is going to punch Taylor, after all.” CHAPTER XVI A DECLARATION OF WAR