“‘The Nile,’” continued Trevor, “‘also produces otters, which Egyptians venerate, as they do also the fish named lepidotus--so called on account of its spots, which resemble those of a leopard--and the eel; these are sacred to the Nile, as among birds is one named chenalopex.’ What is that, professor?” “The chenalopex,” responded the deep voice, “is a bird----” But Dick’s curiosity got the better of him at this point, and he opened the door and entered. At the study table was Trevor, Dick’s volume of Herodotus open before him, and a Greek lexicon at his elbow. Dick stared about the room in surprise. Save for Trevor and himself it was empty. “What in thunder----” he began. “Hope,” said Trevor, pointing a paper-knife at him in the manner of Professor Garrison, and speaking sternly in deep tones, “take your seat, sir. The habit of tardiness appears to be growing upon you, sir. Pattern your conduct upon that of the excellently punctual Nesbitt.” Dick seized Trevor’s head and rubbed his nose violently into Herodotus. “You silly chump, you! What do you think you’re doing?” “Amusing myself, I fancy. What can a chap do when his roommate goes off and leaves him this way?” He struck the paper-knife against the green shade of the drop-light. “Beg pardon, professor, I believe the bell rang.” Then, in the professor’s voice, “The bell, Nesbitt? Ah, the time passes very quickly when deep in the beautiful utterances of Herodotus. We will begin to-morrow where we leave off this morning, at the seventy-first paragraph.” Trevor slammed the book shut, jumped up, and grinned at Dick. “You’d better be learning your own lessons than mine,” laughed the latter. “And, now that Professor Garrison’s gone, I propose to go to bed.” Long after the light was out Trevor sat up suddenly and asked: “I say, Dick, did you thump Taylor?” “No,” was the drowsy answer. Trevor snuggled back under the clothes, grumbling. “What do you expect to amount to when you grow up,” he asked disgustedly, “if you continue to neglect your opportunities in this way?” The next day Waters, rowing at five in the first squad, informed Dick that, because of not having enough time for his studies, he had decided to stop work with the crew. CHAPTER XVII IN THE BOAT When, on the following Saturday, Coach Kirk again visited Hillton, Dick had a sorry report to make: Taylor obdurate; Waters gone; two members of the second squad ill. “Taylor absolutely refuses, eh?” said the coach, studying Dick’s face. “Well, if he won’t he won’t, and we must do our best without him. And Waters has dropped out, too, you say? He was at five, wasn’t he? Well, that’s another good man lost. You’ve tried to persuade him to come back?” “Yes; I did all I could.” “Ah! Is Waters a particular friend of Taylor’s?” “I think they’re rather chummy.”