Collingwood was lifted to his feet. He protested that he could not make a speech, but they would not be satisfied till he had said something, and so he cried: "Well, boys, we did them--and we did them good!" This was better than a long speech, and it produced the most unbounded enthusiasm. When the excitement had abated somewhat, Collingwood arose again, and motioned for silence. In a moment he was receiving the full attention of every one. "Every man on the crew deserves praise," began Bob. "Hooray for the croll hew--I mean the whole crew!" shouted Harry Rattleton, smashing his new straw hat over Bandy Robinson's head. "But there is one who deserves especial commendation," Collingwood added. There was a breathless silence, and all eyes were turned on Frank Merriwell, who flushed beneath this sudden attention. "There was one man on the crew who was not in condition to row in the race to-day, and I came very near letting him out. Now I am glad I did not, for, although he had a bad felon on his left hand, there was no man of the crew who pulled a stiffer stroke or showed more lasting powers till the finish was reached. He fainted then, it is true, but it was because of the frightful pain in his hand and arm, and I wish you to remember that he did not faint till the victory was won." "Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!" Not even Bob Collingwood himself received a greater ovation. Frank was seized, he was lifted aloft, he was perched on the shoulders of his friends, and then there was a general howl for a speech. Frank felt himself thrill from his hair to his toes; his eyes were dimmed with moisture, even though he laughed. In his bosom there was a choking sensation of gratitude and love for his comrades and the admiring throng around him. He forgot that he had a single foe at Yale--that he had a foe in all the wide world. "Boys," he said, somewhat brokenly, "I did my best for dear old Yale--that is all." That was all he said. It was enough. It seemed to touch a chord in every breast, and there was a ring of patriotism in the cheering that followed. "Here's to good Old Yale--drink it down! Here's to good Old Yale--drink it down! Here's to good Old Yale, She's so hearty and so hale-- Drink it down! drink it down! down! down!" It seemed that every person in the car joined in singing this song. The enthusiasm was running higher and higher. In every heart the Yale spirit grew deeper and stronger during that ride from New London to New Haven. The students who were there never forgot that scene--never forgot how they thrilled with love for Old Yale. The hardships and struggles of college days were forgotten; the triumphs and joys alone were remembered. But with it all it is certain that the result of the race had disappointed no Harvard man more than it did Fred Flemming.