Page:The Eight-Oared Victors.djvu/165

Rh I note, in looking back over some pages I have written, that I headed this chapter "At Practice," and really I meant to devote considerable space to detailing the doings of Tom and his chums in the shell, under the guidance of Mr. Pireson [sic]. But I find that the girls have taken up such a large proportion of my available space that I have not much left for rowing matters. And, in fact, the boys found themselves in the same predicament. After all, I suppose, it is not an unforgivable crime.

Tom and his chums kept promising themselves, from day to day, after the arrival of the girls, that they would buckle down to hard work in the shell, but each day saw them over at the cottage as early as decency and good manners would allow, and the same thing kept them there as late as possible.

They hired a small gasoline launch, that was continually getting out of order, and stopping out in the middle of the lake. They had to be towed in so frequently that they became very well known. But it was all the more fun.

"There's something about this launch that you don't often find," remarked Frank, one day when they had been drifting helplessly about.

"And it's a good thing you don't," added Tom.

"What I meant," said Frank, "was that it never gets monotonous. The same thing never happens twice."

"I should say not," declared Sid.