the excited thousands and the
shrieking of the whistles.

The prow of the Yale boat was turned toward the bank. It was necessary
to avoid the craft that came rushing about on every side, but the shore
was soon reached.

"Hold her steady!" cried Collingwood. "Somebody dash water into
Merriwell's face."

The command was obeyed, and in a moment Frank opened his eyes. It was at
the moment when the Yale cheer was pealing from a thousand throats, and
the look of pain on Merriwell's face changed to one of satisfaction and
joy.

"Did we win?" he huskily asked.

Collingwood nodded, his flushed face beaming, pride in his big blue
eyes.

"You bet!" he answered. "It's hard to beat Old Eli!"

"I am satisfied!" gasped Merriwell.

His eyes drooped, and he seemed on the verge of going off into another
swoon.

"Throw more water on him," pitilessly directed Collingwood.

It was done, and Frank started up, gasping.

"Here--here!" exclaimed a man on the bank; "give him a pull at this. It
will fix him all right."

He stooped down and held out a flask.

"What is it?" asked Frank.

"It's the best brandy money can buy," was the answer.

It was passed to Frank, but he pushed it away, shaking his head.

"I never touch liquor," he declared. "I do not want it."

"But it will not hurt you now--it will do you good," declared the man
who owned the flask.

"I can get along without it."

"But I shall be offended if you do not take it."

Frank looked sharply at the man. He saw a suntanned individual, who wore
a wide-brimmed hat and was dressed in clothes which were worn and
appeared to have been made for service rather than for fit and elegance.
There was something piercing about the man's dark eyes, and something
about the beardless face that impressed it upon the boy's memory. There
was a small purple scar on the man's chin, and Frank noted this,
although he might have overlooked it easily in that hasty glance.

"Then you will have to be offended, sir," said Frank, firmly. "I do not
wish to appear rude, but I never drink under any circumstances, and I
will not begin now."

The man drew back after the flask was returned to him. The last look he
gave the boy was peculiar, as Frank could not tell whether it was one of
satisfaction or anger.

In a moment this man was forgotten. The boat slipped out to the
_Clyde_, the little steam yacht that was to take the victorious crew
back to quarters. The exhausted rowers were lifted