we could turn out some four-and-eight-oared victors?"
Frank paused in his enthusiastic questions, and gazed at his chums through a mist of moisture that seemed to emanate from his damp person.
"Do you?" he repeated, for they were silent.
"What does he mean?" asked Tom.
"He speaketh in riddles," added Phil.
"Mayhap he but jesteth," came from Sid.
"No joke at all," said Frank with a smiling good nature. "This is the very latest news, and I think I'm one of the first fellows to hear it. Listen and I will a tale unfold."
"Well, as long as it's only a tale you're going to unfold, and not that wet raincoat, proceed, most noble Brutus," begged Tom.
"Oh, let up with the jollying, and let's hear the news," suggested Phil.
"In brief, then, it's this," went on Frank. "A number of old grads, who, it seems, used to be fonder of rowing and sculling than anything else when they were at Randall, have had a meeting, and they decided to subscribe ten thousand dollars to fit us up with a dandy boathouse and shells—that is if we'll consent to accept"
"Accept! I guess yes, with running shoes on!" cried Phil.
"There's a sort of a string attached to it," went on Frank.
