Amid the laughter of the onlookers the shell swept on again up the river, and Dick crawled over the bow of his tub and put back to the boat-house for a change of clothing. But despite his most heroic efforts, neither the first nor second squad worked well; there appeared to be lack of spirit; a sort of “What’s the good of anything? Nothing!” feeling seemed to prevail among the candidates, and the discouragement that had been growing on Dick ever since Taylor’s resignation now took possession of him wholly. If Trevor had been there, he told himself, it wouldn’t have been so bad; he would have had some one to whom to confide his troubles; some one that would have listened patiently to his groans and growls, and who, by his unfailing cheerfulness and good nature, would have won him from his “blues.” He missed Trevor a good deal; in the evenings especially the study seemed lonesome, and with none to talk to, Dick could gain no entertainment from books, but gathered his lists and memoranda of crew men before him and pondered and studied over them until bedtime came and he crawled between the covers fagged and low-spirited. In the St. Eustace Academy paper he read glowing accounts of the Blue’s eight that worried him yet more. Fifty-odd candidates had reported there for work shortly after the beginning of the new year; a spirit of enthusiasm reigned over the entire student body; the coach who had piloted the eight to a victory over Hillton the preceding spring had again taken hold, and the most encouraging prospect stretched before the rival school. With a groan he contrasted those conditions with the conditions which prevailed at Hillton; almost total indifference on the part of the school at large; a woful deficiency in candidates, both as to numbers and quality; a financial state which, while robust enough to supply the absolute necessities of the crews, was too slight to afford any of the extra expenditures that might in the struggle for success smooth the path toward victory; and, last of all, but not least, intestine strife. On one occasion, heartily wearied of his own company, Dick slammed the door of Number 16 and plodded over the muddy roads to Carl Gray’s room in the village. Carl’s welcome was enthusiastic enough, but to Dick, with his own troubles everlastingly revolving themselves in his brain, the other lad’s chatter of baseball problems--none of them, Dick thought, weighty enough to cause a moment’s worry--only bored him; and he left early and made his way back to Masters and bed envious of Carl’s good fortune and more down on his luck than before.