Page:The Eight-Oared Victors.djvu/97

Rh "Whither away?" asked Phil, as he surveyed his chum.

"Oh, out for a row," and Tom strove to make his voice indifferent.

"With cushions; eh? Want any company?"

"No, thanks, old man. No offense, of course," he hastened to add, "but"

"None taken!" exclaimed Phil. "Guess I'll go get a girl myself."

As Tom neared the boathouse he met Sid and Frank.

"Want me to pull an oar?" asked the former, as he saw the tall pitcher.

"No. I can manage," and Tom proceeded to get out a light boat.

"I say, old man," put in Frank, with a wink at Sid. "Lend me one of those cushions; will you. I'm going"

"You're going to get one of your own!" interrupted Tom. "I need these."

"You mean the lady does," added Sid, with a laugh. "Go on, you old deserter. We'll be going out in the shell, later."

"Will you?" exclaimed Tom. "I wonder if I'd better—Oh, go and be hanged to you!" he added. "I'll get practice enough," and he got into the boat and rowed away.

"Wonder where he's going?" spoke Frank.