"Yes; it will give me no end of satisfaction. That fellow put up the 'Grace Darling' job on me, and Diamond helped him to carry it out. I have been a guy for the whole college ever since Danny Griswold told down at Morey's how he fooled me. Some day I'll wring that little rat's neck!" "They never could have worked the game if Horner hadn't helped them." "Of course not; but I have cut clear of Horner. We have separated, and I never give the fellow a look when we meet. Like the other fools, he is stuck on Merriwell, and he thought he was doing something cunning when he helped them work the horse on me." "If Merriwell doesn't row you'll have a chance to get back at them. You can say you knew it all the time, old chappie." "Oh, he won't row to-day, and I'll rub it in when I get the opportunity." Within the boathouse, at this very moment, Bob Collingwood was saying to Frank Merriwell: "You cannot row in the race to-day, Merriwell. You are out of condition." Frank turned pale. "If you say I can't row, that settles it," he said, huskily; "but I think you are making a mistake. I can row, and I'll prove it, if you will give me the chance. You shall have no cause to complain of me." "But I know you are not fit to pull an oar. You have tried to conceal it from me, but I know you have a felon on your hand. Am I right?" "You are right," calmly admitted Frank; "but give me a chance, and I will row for all there is in me, even if it takes my arm off at the shoulder." Collingwood looked into Merriwell's eyes, and what he saw there caused him to say: "All right, my boy, you shall row if we lose by it." "If we lose the race it will not be my fault," returned Merriwell. The Harvard cheer broke from a thousand throats as the Harvard crew came down the stream and arrived first at the start. Yale followed almost immediately, and two students who were on a trim little yacht craned their necks and glared at the men in the boat. Something like a groan escaped the lips of Tom Thornton, and Willis Paulding declared: "I don't see Flemming, but Merriwell is there!" "Yes!" grates Tom; "he has managed to keep his place somehow! Well, that settles it! Harvard will win!" Orders were shouted, and then it was seen that both crews were "set." The men, their brown backs gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, were reaching forward at arm's length, ready for the first stroke. A voice was heard commanding them to make ready, then came the cry: "Go!" There was a pistol shot, and both boats darted forward. The four-mile race to the railway bridge piers of New London had begun. In an instant the great crowd set up a wild cheering, and colors fluttered everywhere. Away went the boats, side by side. Harvard's style of rowing had changed completely from that of the previous year, when her boat had jumped at every stroke. Now her crew bent with a long sweep that sent the boat through the water with a steady motion.