“On Friday we went out in the worst weather we ever had. The rain blew so fast that sheets of it would go into Mike’s megaphone, so that he really spent more time in blowing out water than in talking, though this was only when we were bucking the wind. We were all soaked about five minutes after we left the boat-house. The waves were very bad, often piling right over the boat. The rain came down so fast that it looked like a mist, and you couldn’t see the shore from the middle of the river. We didn’t stay out long, for there was no chance for good rowing. When we came in, we found that the roof leaked. Little Mike was down on the Newbury bunch because some one of them pinched his collar buttons one day, so that he hadn’t anything to button his collar to. So he put the clothes of the Newbury crews, who were still out, under the leak. “This is a terribly long letter and will cost something to send it to Buenos Aires, but I wanted to tell you all about the crew business even if it does bore you. It means a lot to me. If you went to Westcott’s, you would understand. You can read between the lines that my health is good and the studies are going all right. I got 82 in a history exam, on Monday. Love to all. “Your affectionate son, “ROGER.” “What do you think of that?” asked Mrs. Hardie, four weeks later, after her husband had patiently toiled through the letter. “Fancy their going out in a tempest that soaked them in five minutes!” “I don’t care about that,” said Mr. Hardie. “It’s the race that troubles me. It is a great strain on the heart, and the Hardies have a tendency to weak hearts.” “Roger takes after me, and my family have good tough hearts,” returned Mrs. Hardie, quickly, seeing, as she thought, a disposition on the part of her husband to disapprove the boy’s rowing. She was touched that her son should count on her loving interest in all that occupied his thoughts; she objected strongly to making use of his confidences to thwart the ambitions which he cherished most deeply, thus perhaps banishing forever the frankness in which her mother heart delighted. “Besides,” she added, “I wrote him all about that last week. He can be trusted to look out for himself.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER XXII A SHIFT IN THE BOAT A FORTNIGHT later another letter packed full of the inevitable rowing gush started on the long journey to Buenos Aires. “DEAR MOTHER: