"All together now, boys! The 'Conquer or Die' song, and sing it as if you meant it. Randall is nearing the finish!"
Blake and Carter, bitter over the unforeseen accident that had robbed them of victory, were getting out of their shell. Boswell and the others in the singles were being sent off after brief instructions. Tom looked at his rival, and many thoughts came to him.
The crowd was now so dense on the float, and on the stairway leading to the balcony, that Tom could not make his way up to tell Ruth the good news—that he had her brooch. He made the effort, but it was next to impossible.
"Come on, Tom!" called Frank, behind him. "Mr. Lighton wants the crew of the eight in the dressing room for a last conference. Oh, cats! But the time is getting close."
"Don't get nervous, you chump!" exclaimed Dutch. "Look at Kindlings, as cool as an icehouse."
Elation, worry, wonder and apprehension were Tom's mingled feelings as he followed his chums and the coach. What Mr. Lighton said he hardly comprehended. But the coach impressed on the lads the necessity for coolness, the need of a spurt at the right time, and then the keeping up of the stroke until the bow of the boat had crossed the finish line.
