Crawford was rowing in the Brasenose Eight. So, after seeing his lady friends to seats on the top of the college barge, he ran down-stairs to dress for the race. The men who rowed in the Brasenose Eight and Torpid were unlike the majority of men of other colleges, in that they walked to the river in _mufti_, and put on their boating-clothes in their barge. Frank, pleading an excuse that he wanted to go down the Berkshire bank to see the start, but chiefly because he was rather shy, left Crawford’s party to the attention of some other men, and, crossing in old George West’s punt, was soon lost in the crowd. One by one the boats paddled down to the start, cheered by their own men as they passed. The crowd thickened. A great surging mass pressed up against the rails that enclosed the barges, and gazed enviously at the lucky ones within the enclosure. A black line went coiling down the pathway towards Iffley. Those were the men who would see the start, and run back with the boats to cheer them on. Presently there was a great silence. Everybody was looking right away to the Iffley Willows, or at watches. Then the first gun went. Conversation flowed again for four minutes. Then the one-minute gun--and then utter silence, till with the third boom a roar of voices began, that came nearer and louder as the great black line began coiling home again, as fast as it could. Brasenose was Head of the River; and Blue-eyes was wearing the Brasenose colours; and Blue-eyes’ heart, though she would not have confessed it, was in a flutter of excitement. On came the boats. Balliol was close behind Brasenose. The Brasenose men on bank and barge shouted. The Balliol men shouted more loudly. They must catch them. Blue-eyes hated the Balliol men; but, for all that, the nose of the Balliol boat was within a foot of the Brasenose rudder. Now it overlapped it, but failed to touch it, for the Brasenose coxswain, by a sharp pull of the rudder-string, turned a rush of water against their nose and washed them off. The Brasenose men yelled till Blue-eyes felt the drums of her little ears were nigh to cracking. And then Crawford, who was rowing stroke, seemed to pull himself together for a final effort, and laying himself well out, gave his men a longer stroke. Now they were clear--now there was a foot between them--now two--now three. Then he quickened: his men answered bravely. Foot by foot they drew ahead, and when they were on the post, Balliol was a good length behind. Blue-eyes had often heard, “See, the Conquering Hero comes,” but she could not make out why the sound of it now gave her a choking feeling in the throat. Certainly she saw no more of the races, though boat by boat came by, each in as keen pursuit of the one just in advance of it as Balliol had been to catch Brasenose.