They rowed a good distance, and then drew up at a private float and got out to stretch their legs. As they were about to put off again, an elderly man, with a pleasant face, approached and asked:
"From Boxer Hall?"
"From Randall," replied Tom.
"Ah, yes, I noticed you rowing in. I think you might improve your stroke a little if you would feather differently. You don't turn your hands quite at the proper time."
"You must be an old oarsman?" said Tom.
"Well, I've been in the game. I used to row at Cornell years ago. Pierson is my name."
"Are you that Pierson?" cried Frank, remembering the name as that of one of the best scullers Cornell ever turned out.
"I'm afraid I am," was the smiling answer.
"Say," burst out Sid. "Would you mind watching us a bit, and telling us our mistakes? We're new at it, as you probably noticed," he went on, "and Randall is just getting into the water sports. We want to beat Boxer Hall. Can you give us a few points?"
"Where are you staying?" asked Mr. Pierson.
"On Crest Island—we're camping there."
"So! Well, as it happens, I have friends there, and I have been invited to spend part of the Summere there. If I come I shall be glad to tell you what I know of rowing, and coach you a bit. It
