“Since then I have rowed bow on the first all the time, and there is practically no chance at all of my being put back, as the practice is over now. To-day the pair-oar bunch was fired. They knew it was their last time, so Wilmot and Weld got Trask for cox and came out, all three smoking cigarettes with a great air of superiority and rowing about as they liked. They came down to where we were practicing racing starts with the second, above the Harvard bridge, and watched us. They were in very good spirits and jollied the two boats, sitting in attitudes of ease in the pair-oar in the warm sun, and occasionally rowing. They thought they were having a fine time, but any one of them would have given almost anything to sneak into the boat—except Trask, perhaps, who has a heart and isn’t allowed to row. There was a lot of talk as to whether any one would dare to call Caffrey ‘Bill,’ as it was the last day, but no one was fresh enough to. “The preliminary heats come on Wednesday. Our second stands a good chance to get the championship, but the first, which is the most important, of course, has to face much better crews. I hope we can get into the finals, anyway. Some of the papers say Bainbridge is going to win, and some say Newbury, which has a husky, big crew. “All we want is to beat Newbury. They’ve won the championship at baseball already, though they have to play us one more game. If they beat us in the crew, they get Smithy’s cup for a year; if we beat them, we get it. Smithy has come out again. He was at the baseball game in all his importance, and they say he’s trying to work the officials for the races so that Newbury can get the best course. By the time I write my next letter it will be all over. I’d cable you about it, only it costs so much and you’ll have sailed by that time. I am writing this on Friday to give it a good start. “Affectionately, “ROGER.” The next morning Roger slept late. He got up feeling listless and dispirited; and though he assured himself as he dressed that he had every reason to feel both happy and vigorous, the lethargy clung to him so insistently that after breakfast he returned to his room and lay down. In addition he was troubled by an occasional stitch in the left side. Was it possible that he was going to fall ill, at this of all times? Could it be that he too had developed a weakness of the heart such as his father suffered from? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. It couldn’t be so, it shouldn’t be so! He would not be cheated out of his reward after all these weeks of hard uphill work. Towards noon Dunn came whistling in from school, where he had been spending his Saturday morning in enforced diligence. He pounded on Roger’s door, opened it, and dexterously flipped a letter across to the figure on the sofa.