# The Eight-Oared Victors/Chapter 16
#### CHAPTER XVI
##### THE GIRLS

Rowing on up to the float, the four chums took their shell out of the water just as Boswell got his in. He looked over at them, and nodded in what he evidently meant to be a friendly fashion, but which he succeeded in making only patronizing.
"Out for a row?" he asked, needlessly.
"Just a bit of practice," answered Sid.
"And you're going in for the same thing, I see," added Phil.
"Yes, I've gone a bit stale since I was here last. I just came back to-day, and I thought I'd take a little row before I went up to our cottage on the island."
"He's going there all right, then," murmured Tom.
"Are you fellows in camp yet?" asked Boswell.
"Yes," replied Frank. "We haven't got settled yet, we'll soon be in shape." Then, with an effort, he went on: "Drop in and see us—when you get a chance."
​Phil administered an unseen but none the less swift kick to his chum.
"What'd you want to go and do that for?" he asked, in a whisper. It was safe since Boswell was busy rattling the oars in his shell and could not hear distinctly.
"I couldn't do any less," retorted Frank. "It would look pretty raw not to ask him."
"I hope he doesn't accept," murmured Sid, and, the next moment the rich lad replied:
"Thanks, but I don't expect to get much time for calling. I'm going to be pretty busy with my sculling, and I expect a friend or two up. Besides, I never did like a tent. It always seems so musty to me. I much prefer a cottage."
"Thank the kind Fates for that!" murmured Tom.
Boswell got in the shell, and rowed off, rather awkwardly, the four thought, but then they had yet to see themselves row, though, truth to tell, they were becoming more expert every day.
"I'm going to have a professional oarsman coach me," Boswell threw to them over his shoulder as he sculled off. "I expect to be in good trim, soon. As long as you fellows didn't want me in the eight, I'm going to win in the singles, just to show you what I can do."
"We never said we didn't want you in the eight!" declared Frank. "In fact I thought you ​did as well at bow as anyone. It was the coach's doings."
"All right," replied Boswell. "It doesn't matter. I rather think I prefer this, on the whole. And I'm going to win, too!" he boasted.
"Good! We hope you do!" exclaimed Tom. Then, to his chums he added: "Come on, let's get back to the island and enjoy it before he starts his monkey business there. I wonder when his cottage opens?"
"I saw a woman and a man working around there to-day, just before we left," volunteered Sid.
"Then Bossy's folks must be coming soon—more's the pity—I mean as far as he Is concerned," put in Phil. "His folks may be decent enough, but he's the limit."
"I suppose he and that English pal of his—Pierce—will be drinking tea every afternoon at five o'clock," said Tom. "They'll have their cakes and Young Hyson out on the lawn, and—Oh, 'slush, isn't it fierce! A bally rotter, dontcherknow!'"
"The Knockers Club will please come to order!" exclaimed Frank, in mock seriousness.
"Say, I guess we have been piling it on pretty thick," admitted Tom, with a grin. "Let's get in our old tub, and pull back. It's my turn to rest this trip."
Laughing and joking, with occasional ​references to the proper way to handle an oar, and some talk of the offer of Mr. Pierson to coach them, the lads rowed back to their camp. They spent the next two days in getting the place in better shape.
"For exhibition purposes," Sid explained. "The girls might come to lunch some day."
"Say, he's got girls on the brain!" complained Phil. "Duck him, Tom, you aren't doing anything."
But Sid discretely got out of the way.
A day later the Boswell family arrived at the island. There were several servants—almost too many for the simple cottage—and Mr. and Mrs. Boswell, in addition to their son. It was hard to see from whom the lad inherited his unpleasant mannerisms, for both his parents were of the old-fashioned school of gentlemen and ladies, with exceedingly kind hearts. Boswell had evidently been spoiled, unless he did the spoiling process himself, which was more than likely.
When Mr. Boswell learned that some of his son's college mates were on the island, he paid a formal call on them, and invited them to the cottage. They promised to come—some time.
"When Bossy isn't home, I hope," murmured Sid.
Pierce, Boswell's English chum, arrived that same week, and after that our friends saw little of ​the rich lad. He and his friend were generally off together in a boat rowing or fishing.
Then another personage made his appearance, an athletic-looking man, whom Boswell introduced as his "trainer." Then began the instruction in sculling. Tom and the others heard and saw some of it.
"He's teaching him a totally different stroke than we row," said Sid. "I wonder if it can be right?"
"I'll stick to Lighton's method," declared Frank.
"Yes, for it's the same as that used by Mr. Pierson," added Tom. "It's good enough for us."
The Cornell oarsman had paid a visit or two to the lads in their camp, coming from where he was stopping on the mainland, as his friend, whom he expected to visit on the island, had not yet opened his cottage.
Mr. Pierson gave the boys some good advice, and getting into the shell several times, practiced what he preached. He had not forgotten his early skill, and his illustrations were valuable.
"He can pull a good stroke yet," declared Frank, one day, following some spirited instruction and practice. Mr. Pierson had left, promising to devote more time to the boys later on.
​"He sure must have been a wonder in his day," declared Tom.
It was one morning just after the lads had finished breakfast, and were getting their camp in shape for the day, preparatory to going for a row, that Tom made a momentous discovery.
He had been to the spring for a pail of water, and, on his return he noticed on the porch of the Tyler cottage a number of trunks and suitcases. Then a flutter of dresses caught his eye, and he heard a chorus of musical laughter.
"The girls have come!" cried Tom, and he raced for his own camp, as he had on a pair of old trousers and a disreputable sweater, and wanted to get in more presentable shape for making them welcome.
"The girls have come!" he cried, springing into the midst of his chums with such force that he spilled half the water. "The girls have come!"