“Not he. He told me not to get into debt, and to send in the bills. And a fellow can’t live like a hermit. I’ve always had a horse at home, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t have one here. But I’m not proud, and so I hire a pony instead, and I’m sure the old man ought not to mind.” “Come out of that, you lazy young beggar!” called a voice in Frank’s ears, and looking up he saw Crawford in one of those little cockle-shells in which Mr. Verdant Green so highly distinguished himself--“Aren’t you coming down to see the Eights?” Monkton looked at Crawford with that expression of half insolence, half fear, which characterizes so many freshmen, and drawled out,-- “Yes; Ross is going. He’s so energetic, you know.” “That’s a blessing, at all events,” answered Crawford, “as long as there are fellows like you, about.” “By Jove!” said Frank, pulling out his watch, “it’s getting late. If you’re going to Abingdon at seven, Monkton, you’ll have to look sharp.” “Going to Abingdon?” asked Crawford, half to himself, and getting no answer from Monkton. “Look here! I say, you fellows! can’t you manage to get this punt back to the barges, and let me cut up through the meadows?” said Monkton. “I promised to be in Morton’s rooms at half-past six, and it’s just on six now.” “All right,” said Frank, “Crawford will help me back with the punt”--really glad to get rid of him, for his younger and his older friend did not hit it off exactly. “It strikes me that young man is beginning rather early,” said Crawford paternally, as he lashed his boat to the punt and got in, much to Frank’s relief, for it was his first day in a punt. The latter did not say much, for he had himself commenced various extensive dealings with the trustful tradesmen--trustful, that is, for two years, but most distrustful afterwards--and he feared questioning and an inevitable lecture from Crawford. By the time they reached the barges, the river and banks were getting crowded. The band was assembling on the ’Varsity barge (that belonging to the University Boat Club); and all the other college barges were in a bustle of excitement. It was “the first night of the Eights,” and many were the attempts to explain that somewhat elliptical phrase to the uninitiated matrons and maidens who were flocking from every quarter of the town. Just at the mouth of the Cherwell, Crawford and Frank met a party of ladies and escorted them to the Paul’s barge; and the latter, though he fancied he was clear as to the meaning of “Eights” and “Torpids,” was really not sorry to overhear his friend’s explanation.