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

~ LANDING In the bow of the launch
DR.. Nichols, coach of the Ballot
crew, leaned upon his msgaphone,
his eyes fixed upon two eight-cared
crews resting upon their oars
hundred feet away. From his hand dangled
a stop-watch. The two crews had just COM
pleted four-mile race against the watch
A grim light came into the deeply set gray
eyes of Jim Deacon as the coach put the watch
into his pocket. Deacon was the stroke OF
the second varsity, an outfit which IN aquatics
bears the same relation to university eight
as the scrub team does to varsity foot BAN
eleven But in the race just completed the sec
ond varsity had been much of factor-surprE-
ingly, dishearteningly so. Nip and tuck II
had been, the varsity straining to drop she
rival boat astern but unable to do so. At the
finish not a quarter Of a length, not Is feet,
had separated the two prows; poor showing
for the varsity to have made with the great
rowing classic of the season coming on apace-
q poor showing, that Is, assuming the time con-
sumed In the four-mile trip was not especially
low.
Only the coach could really know whether
the time was satisfactory or not. But Jim
Deacon suspected that it was poor, his idea
being based upon knowledge he had concerning
the capabilities of his own crew; in other words,
he knew it was only an average second var
sity outfit. The coach knew it, too.
mot good, boys-not good" His voice was
gentle, though usually he was rip-roaring
mentor. Varsity, you weren't rowing. That's
; the answer-not rowing together. What's the
matter, eh?"
Deacon saw the coach's eyes turn to Doane,
who sat at stroke of the varsity.
NOW" muttered the stroke of the second
varsity, his eyes cleaning, well hear some
thing"
"Doane, is there anything the trouble with
you? You're feeling well, aren't your"
"Yes, sir. Sure!" The boy flushed.
Deacon, watching the coach. could almost
see his mind working. Now the time had come,
the issue clearly defined. Another stroke must
be tried and found not wanting, else the annual
eight-oared rowing classic between those an
Gent universities Ballot and Shelburne would
be decided before it was rowed.
Deacon flushed as the coach's glittering eye
glasses turned toward him. It was the big
moment of the seniors four years at college.
Four years! And six months Of each Of those
years q galley-slave-on the machines In tho
rowing Of the gymnasium, on the ice-in-
tested river with the cutting winds Of March
sweeping free; then the more genial months
with the voice Of coach or assistant coach LASH
ing him. Four years Of logged, unremitting
toll with never the reward of a varsity seat
and now with the great regatta less than
week away, the big moment, the crown Of all
he had done.
Words seemed on the verge of the coach's
lips. Deacon's eyes strained upon them as
he sat stif1y in his seat But no words came;
the coach turned away.
MO one had known Deacon really well in
college. He was working his way through.
Besides, he was student in one of the highly
scientific engineering courses which demanded
great deal Of steady application With no
great aptitude for foot ball-he was a bit
slow-footed-with little time or inclination for
social activities, he had concentrated upon row.
Ing, not only as a diversion from his arduous
studies. an ordered outlet for physical energy,
but with the idea of going out into the world
with that hallmark Of Ballot varsity oar
which he had heard and believed was likely
TO stand him in stead in life.
Later as Deacon stood watching the fresh
men at play, Dick Rollins, the crew captain,
game up.
"They sent down the time-trial results from
the Shelburne quarters Deacon"
1.-THE time-oh, yes; I see."
They did 20 minutes 80 seconds"
Deacon whistled.
WELL" he said at length, "you didn't get
ehe boat moving much today
Rollins grimaced.
eyes, we were sick. Doc Nichols knows a
sick crew when he sees one. He-he thinks
you're the needed tonic, Deacon"
"Eh?"
HE told me you were to sit in at stroke in
Sunior Doane's place tomorrow. I'd been pull