Page:The Eight-Oared Victors.djvu/125

Rh I can row better when I don't have to worry about picking up Frank's stroke."

"Say, but he's a peach at it!" exclaimed Sid, admiringly, from his place at bow oar.

"Silence in the bows!" came the sharp command of Jerry Jackson.

"Listen to him," spoke Bricktop, who was at number seven.

"That won't do, boys!" came the sharp voice of the coach, as he ran his little launch up alongside. "If you're not going to accord to Jackson, while he is in the position of coxswain, the same respect you gave me, you might as well give up rowing now and for all. You can't talk and row. You need too much breath for the latter. So if you want to talk, and gibe the coxswain, then the place for you is on shore."

"Right!" exclaimed Sid. "I'll be good."

"Same here," came from Tom.

"I beg your pardon, coxswain," said Phil.

Bricktop Molloy, grinning while the sweat ran down from his forehead, outlined in red hair, into his eyes, whispered:

"What you say, goes!"

And then Bricktop, being as loyal a Randallite as there was, proceeded to row as he had never before, while Frank set a killing stroke. The little lesson was not wasted.

Running along in the launch, by means of which