Page:The Eight-Oared Victors.djvu/280



" on now, fellows, hit her up again! All together and I want every man to sing! Ready now!" and Bean Perkins, the official cheer-leader, the "shouter" of Randall, signalled with his megaphone to his cohorts who were lined up near the boathouse, in and around which the various crews or single-shell men were gathered. "Tear it out now!" commanded Bean, and that glorious old Latin song—"Aut Vincere, Aut Mori!"—"Either We Conquer or We Die!" welled out over the river. It was the song that, time and again, had urged Randall on to victory. Would it once more?

"When are we going to start?" asked Tom, as he walked back and forth on the float, clad in rowing togs, as were a score of others, for a number of substitutes had been provided.

"Don't get nervous now, old man," advised Frank. "The shell will be in the water soon, and then we'll go down to the starting point. They're going to run off all the other races first, you know.