“You’ll feel all right as soon as we get into the boat,” rejoined Talbot, relieved. “What we want is some one to jolly us up a little.” Just at that moment, as if in response to the captain’s wish, a young man, displaying under a panama hat a face wreathed with smiles, appeared at the door and trotted towards the Westcott corner. “It’s Happy Hutchins!” cried Pete. “Hello, Hap! Why didn’t you come before, you old fraud?” Hutchins was shaking hands violently all round, calling every one by name as if he knew the whole crew as well as he knew Pete and Eaton. “I couldn’t get here. I was afraid they weren’t going to let me off at all. If they hadn’t, I’d have cut the job entirely. How I’d like to be in you fellows’ shoes! The Newbury cox will be the only one on their boat to see Westcott’s to-day. Gee, but I wish I was pulling an oar!” Roger glanced with curiosity at Pete’s face to see what effect this boundless confidence had upon him. Pete was grinning broadly, but only with pleasure in Happy’s society. He didn’t need the stimulus of artificial encouragement. “What’s the job, Hap?” asked Eaton. “Arlington Trust. Fill ink-wells and run errands. Three dollars a week. It nearly pays for my lunches.” “Don’t get discouraged,” urged Pete. “Perhaps you’ll be made a vice-president next year.” “I’ll probably get a raise next year that’ll pay my car fares,” answered Hutchins, calmly. “Where’s old Withers? Do you suppose he’ll remember me?” “He’ll never forget the man that stepped through the bottom of the pair-oar!” declared Pete. “He’s sore about it yet.” That was the first link in a chain of reminiscences that sent the minutes flying. Hutchins had not succeeded in getting into college in spite of an extra year, and two long summers of arduous slaving; but he was the jolliest, best-hearted chap that Westcott’s had ever failed to make a scholar of, and he couldn’t open his mouth without being entertaining. Eaton had just reminded him of his historic attempt to prove to the coach by argument that he wasn’t feathering under, when two harsh toots of a steam whistle cut his explanations short and sobered all faces. “Trowbridge!” exclaimed Eaton and Pete, in unison. “What’s ours?” asked Hutchins, quietly. “Three. If Trowbridge is ahead, we’re close behind, you can depend on that,” said Talbot. “Let’s go out,” proposed Roger. “Not yet. They’re some distance up, still.” For two minutes they waited in silence, listening. Then the whistle screeched once more, this time distinctly nearer. “One! Two!” counted Hutchins. “Trowbridge! Come on out!”