and all that sort of thing, you know. Then they subscribed the ten thousand dollars, and the only condition is that we promise to do our best to become champions.”

“Which we’ll do without question,” said Tom.

“Of course,” added Phil.

“But it’s going to take a lot of work,” commented Sid. “We’ll need all the time between now and Fall to get in shape. But what can we practice in? We haven’t any decent shells.”

“We can get some second-hand ones for practice,” said Frank, “and I understand the old grads will have the new ones ready for us in the Fall, together with the new boathouse. We can also practice during our vacation.”

“Good!” cried Tom. “It makes me feel better already. I want to get out on the water right now.”

“And a little while ago you thought there was altogether too much water,” commented Phil, drily.

“Oh, well,” excused Tom, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I say, it is clearing!” he cried. “Come on down and get into a boat. Even one of the old tubs will answer, and we can talk this thing over.”

“That’s what I came in to propose,” said Frank. “As we are among the older students here, it will be sort of up to us to spread the idea. I think everybody will take to it, though.”

“It’s about time we took a fall out of Boxer Hall on the water,” declared Sid. “Fairview isn’t in it so much, though she came mighty near beating Boxer in the eight one year.”

The rain had ceased, there probably being no more water left in the sky, as Sid remarked. The four chums—the “Inseparables,” as they were called, slipped off their lounging jackets—at least Sid and Phil did, for Tom already had done so—and soon all were on their way to Sunny River, on the bank of which the various buildings of Randall College were situated. Over the soggy campus they took their way, meeting no one, for no one else seemed to have the courage to venture out.

Though the institution had not boasted of a rowing association, or crew, in some years, there was a boathouse, and a number of craft owned by the students, and it was toward this structure that our friends betook themselves.

“Let’s take the big barge,” suggested Tom. “Then we can all get in it and talk.”

“It’s as heavy as lead,” complained Phil. “It will be all right rowing down stream, but coming back we’ll have a hard pull.”

“What of it?” demanded Frank. “It will be good practice for us if we’re going to try for the crew.”

“That’s right, we will have to make tries to see who are the best oarsmen,” remarked Tom. “I wonder if Mr. Lighton is a good coach when it comes to rowing? I know he’s all right at football and baseball, but——”

“I believe Dr. Churchill mentioned that if we took up this offer, one of the old grads, who was a crackerjack oarsman in his day, might come and give us some pointers,” put in Frank.

“Well, let’s get out. Say, but the river is high, though,” Tom exclaimed, as they came in sight of the stream. The rain of the past week had raised it considerably, and it was now rushing swiftly along, a muddy stream, far from bearing out its name—Sunny.

“The barge is as safe as a ferry-boat,” commented Sid. “It can’t upset.”

“All right, I’m game,” declared Tom. “Let’s row down to Tonoka Lake, and see what’s going on there.”

This lake was a large body of water into which the river emptied—in fact it was more like the widening of the stream than a real lake, but a lake it was called in spite of that. In its centre was Crest Island, of good size.

Soon the four students were in the barge, a four-oared craft, with enough seats so that the quartette could row with an oar each, after the manner of those in a shell.

“Take out the rudder,” directed Frank. “We’ll have to make our own course, for it can’t be worked by one’s feet as in a four-oared shell.”

Phil unshipped the rudder, and they rowed out into the middle of the stream. It was easy going down with the current, but they realized that it would be harder coming back. However, they were out for practice as much as anything else, and did not mind a stiff pull.

“I wonder what sort of a stroke we pull?” said Tom, as they rowed on.

“Oh, we probably have lots of faults,” admitted Frank. “But they can be corrected.”

“It’s a pretty big chunk to bite off—to think of beating Boxer Hall, where the fellows have been rowing for years, and we just starting in,” commented Sid.

“Oh, stranger things have happened,” declared Tom. “We can do it.”

Then began a spirited discussion of the splendid offer that had been made to Randall, and a talk as to what the other students would think of it. The four chums were enthusiastic over the prospect.

“Say,” called Tom, after a bit. “This is all right, and lots of fun, but we’ve come down quite a way, and we’ve got to think of going back. This current is fierce.”

“Quitter!” called Phil.

“Nothing of the sort—I’ve got common-sense,” was the retort.

“Tom is right,” said Frank Simpson, in a quiet voice. “We mustn’t overdo the thing. It is going to be a stiffish pull back, and we don’t want to be late for dinner—I don’t anyhow.”

They had rowed down to where the river widened into the lake. There was a Summer picnic ground near here, and on the higher slopes of land, back from the water, were a number of fine residences, the estates running down to the shore edge. Many of the places had boathouses.

As the boys came opposite one of these they saw a small motor-boat turn in toward a shelter, the doors of which were open. There was a lone man in the boat, and he skillfully directed her course across the current.

“Let’s pull over there and rest before going back,” suggested Sid, and the others agreed. They reached the boathouse and dock in time to see the man in the motor-boat close and lock the door, with his craft inside. Apparently he did not notice the boys, who were working to get in on the downstream side of the float, so they could be out of the current for a little while.

“There,” remarked the man from the motor-boat, as he walked out of the shore-door of the house, also locking that after him, “I guess things will be safe in there until I come back. I won’t be gone long. Maybe I ought to take them with me but they’re heavy, and I’ve got to go up hill—I guess I’ll leave them,” and he started up the slope from the river, toward a fine residence on the hill.

“He must have money in the bank—talking to himself that way,” remarked Tom, in a low voice.

“I wonder what it is he’s leaving in his boat?” spoke Phil.

“He trusts us, anyhow,” laughed Frank.

“He didn’t see us,” came from Sid. “Anyhow the place is locked.”

The boys rested there by the boathouse for several minutes.

Tom was about to propose that they start back, for it looked cloudy again, as if the rain would begin once more. But before he could mention this fact Sid exclaimed:

“Here comes the Boxer Hall shell! Say, look at those fellows row!”

“They are hitting up the pace!” agreed Frank.

All looked to see a fine eight-oared shell fairly scudding over the water under the impulse of the sixteen sturdy arms of the rowers.

“We’ll soon be doing that,” said Phil, in a low voice. And then some of the lads in the shell looked over and saw our friends.