In the morning the doctor came, looked him over, ordered a beefsteak for his breakfast, and told him to go back to school. Roger ate the beefsteak with the satisfaction of a hungry tramp who has chanced upon a square meal after an experience of two days with dogs and crusts; but before he left for school he slipped into the gymnasium and tried a dozen strokes on the rowing machine. It was all right; he was a little weak, but he could pull his old stroke. He had two days in which to recover his strength. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER XXIV THE TRIALS PRESIDENT JOHN, glorious in apparel and self-importance, strutted along the boat-house float, blowing cigarette smoke into the faces of waiting oarsmen, playing the patronizing oracle to the newspaper men, and juggling rowing terms for the benefit of everybody within earshot. What strings the genius of the Triangular League had pulled with the Athletic Association to obtain his appointment as race official we may not inquire; of the fact there was no question. A certain Mr. Henderson shared with him the responsibility of being judge at the finish, but the glory of office President John took to himself. In his eyes Henderson was but the zero which added to one makes ten. He himself was both the one and the ten. On a heap of sweaters in a corner of the open room of the boat-house lay stretched the Westcott crews, awaiting, under pretence of calmness, the moment for carrying out their boats. They could not start until the arrival of the launch which was to bear the officials. Meantime various friends who had smuggled themselves into the close quarters clustered about to stay up their champions and divert their minds from the race. “Ben has got his quinquereme out,” said Mike, coming in from a visit to the float. “They’re rowing round here challenging everybody to race.” “What’s the quinquereme?” asked Roger, raising himself on his elbow. “It’s an old eight-oared ship’s cutter from some Spanish war vessel, that Ben discovered down by the East Cambridge bridge,” explained Pete. “He’s filled it full of fellows who want to see the races.” “Why does he call it a quinquereme?” “Because he likes the name, of course,” declared Eaton, laughing. “He doesn’t care what it means. Fluffy and his gang have picked up a big dory thing they call a bireme. They’re going to row the quinquereme.” “That’s all over,” said Mike. “The quinquereme beat out the bireme and the pair-oar. Tracy says he’s going to challenge the second next.” “Let’s go out and see them,” proposed Roger. He raised himself into a sitting position as if to carry out his suggestion, but Talbot pulled him back. “No, you don’t,” ordered the captain. “You aren’t here to amuse yourself!”