Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-09-08

coach, with solemn face, came up TO the cot
tage, bringing the summons. After that for q
little while Jim Deacon passed through q series
of vague impressions rather than living expert
ence.
AS the shell swept around point of land,
volume of sound rolled across the waters. Out
of the corner of his eye he caught view of the
long observation train, vibrant with animation,
the rival colors comminged so that all en-
blem of collegiate afiliation was lost in a
merger Of quivering hue hill near the
starting line on the other side of the river
was black with spectators.
Suddenly as Jim Deacon swung forward
moored skiff swept past his blade. the starting
line
weigh ALL" The coxswains command was
Immediately followed by others designed to work
the boat back to proper starting position.
Deacon could easily see the Shelburne crew
now-big men ALL ideal oarsmen to look at.
Now the Baliol shell had made sternway sufi-
Gent for the man in the skif to seize the
rudder. The Shelburne boat was already Sc
cured Astern lowered the referees boat, the
official standing in the bow directing opera
tions
Are you all ready, Baliol?"
Eyes, sir" Deacon, leaning forward, felt
his arms grow tense.
Are you all ready, Shelburne?"
The affirmative was followed by the sharp
report of pistol With snap of his wrist
Deacon beveled his oar, which bit cleanly into
the water, and pulled There followed an
interval of hectic stroking, oars in and out of
the water as fast as could be done, while
spray rose in clouds and the coxswain screamed
the measure of the beat.
Fine, Balio" The coxswain's voice went
past Deacon's ear like bullet. Both away
together and now little ahead at AZ to the
minute. But down now. Downtown
downtown! That's it-32 to the minute. It's
long race, remember. ShelburneS drop
ping the beat, too. You listen to Papa, all OF
you; he'll keep you wise. Shelburne's hitting
it up bit. Make it "a"
mot yet" Deacon scowled at the tense
little coxswain. 'In do the timing" Chick
Seagraves nodded.
Right. Thirty-two."
Vaguely there came to Deacon sound from
the river bank-Shelburne enthusiasts acclaim
ing lead Of a neat half length.
TOO much-too much" Deacon shook his
head. Either Shelburne was setting out to
row her rival down at the start, or else, as
Deacon suspected, she was trying to smoke
Ballot out to learn at an early juncture just
what mettle was in the rival boat
GIVE 'em 10 at 36!" Deacon's voice was
thick with gathering effort. Take it up.
Chick"
From the coxswain's throat issued a ma
chine-gm fusillade of whiplash words
Ten, boys! A rouser now Ten! Come on.
two-three-four-oh boy! Are we
walking! Five-six-are they anchored over
there? Seven-oh, you big brown babiesl
Eight Shelburne, good nighttime
10!"
Shelburne had met the squirt, but the drive
of Ballot was not to be denied. Gradually the
two prows came abreast and then Deacon, not
stopping at the call of 10, but fairly carrying
the crew along with him, swung on with I'M
diminished ferocity while Seagraves' voice rose
into shrill crescendo of triumph as Ballot
forged to the lead
1t was in the third mile that the battle of
wits and judgment had to be carried to con-
clusion, the fourth mile lurking as a mere
matter Of staying power and ability to stand
the gaff. Deacon's idea was that at present
his crew was leading because Shelburne was
not unwilling for the present that this should
be. How true this was became evident after
the two-mile flags had passed, when the Shell
burne oarsmen began to lay to their strokes
with tremendous drive, the boat creeping foot
by foot upon the rival shell until the Ballot
lead had been overcome and Shelburne herself
swept to the fore.
"Jim They're doing 36-walking away"
The coxswain's face was white and drawn.
But Deacon continued to pass up 80 stroke
while the Shelburne boat slid gradually away
until at the three-mie mark there was foot
of clear water between its rudder and the PROV
of the Ballot she'll
DEACON glanced at the coxswain. A mile
TO go-one deadly mile.
"Thirty-six," he said "Shelburne's can't
have much more left"
The time had passed for study now. Gritting
his teeth Deacon bent to his work, his eyes
fixed upon the swaying body of the coxswain
whose sharp staccato voice snapped out the
measure; the beat Of the oars in the locks
came as one sound.
AS in a dream Deacon saw the Shelburne
boat drift into view, saw the various oarsmen
slide past until he and the rival stroke were
rowing practically abeam.