But finally order was restored, and our friends fell into a deep sleep.
"Well, what's doing to-day?" asked Sid, after breakfast.
"I vote we take a trip down to college, and see if any of the fellows are there rowing," proposed Frank. "If we can't scare up enough to make the eight, we can take out one of the fours."
"Second the motion," came from Tom, and the others agreed, too.
They rowed down leisurely, being a bit stiff, not only from their unusual exertions in making camp, but also because they were out of practice. But finally Randall was reached, and, to their disappointment, they found only one or two lads there, practicing in the singles. They all declined to take a try in the eight, as they were going in for the sculling races. Anyhow, there would not have been enough for an eight with a coxswain.
"We'll have to take a four," said Tom, with a sigh. "Frank, you'll have to steer, as you can do it better than any of us."
A four-oared shell, as I explained, and as doubtless most of you know, is steered by a mechanical arrangement, worked by the feet of one of the rowers.
Soon the four chums were pulling down the river, gaining in skill each moment, as the memory of what Coach LIghton had said recurred to them.
