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274 of Boxer winning. She had five points to her credit now.

The Fairview lads, in the bitterness of their hearts, for they realized that it was overtraining, and, in a way, over-confidence that had made them third, rowed up to the float, disembarked and walked away in silence—at least there was silence until Bean Perkins yelled:

"Three cheers for Fairview—she knows how to take a licking the same as Randall!"

And at once the river echoed the cheers.

"Well, you did us that time, Boxer!" went on Bean. "But our time will come—we're going to do you in the eight."

"Not if we know it," retorted Pinky Davenport.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—for you, Tom," breathed Ruth, as the tall pitcher stood close beside her on the balcony of the boathouse. "Does it bother you much?"

"Well, of course I'd like to have seen our four win," he replied, "but it doesn't bother me. It only makes me mad. We'll win that eight if we have to break every oar."

"Don't do that, Tom, old man," advised Frank, who heard this last. "Breaking an oar is worse than catching a crab. It will lose us the race sure. Be moderate."