rossed the line just
in time to make Old Eli again the winner. And to whom is honor due for
this? You know!"

"Collingwood! Collingwood!" roared the jubilant crowd in the car.
"Hurrah for dear old Bob!"

Then they cheered and cheered, and then they called for a speech from
"dear old Bob."

Collingwood was lifted to his feet. He protested that he could not make
a speech, but they would not be satisfied till he had said something,
and so he cried:

"Well, boys, we did them--and we did them good!"

This was better than a long speech, and it produced the most unbounded
enthusiasm.

When the excitement had abated somewhat, Collingwood arose again, and
motioned for silence. In a moment he was receiving the full attention of
every one.

"Every man on the crew deserves praise," began Bob.

"Hooray for the croll hew--I mean the whole crew!" shouted Harry
Rattleton, smashing his new straw hat over Bandy Robinson's head.

"But there is one who deserves especial commendation," Collingwood
added.

There was a breathless silence, and all eyes were turned on Frank
Merriwell, who flushed beneath this sudden attention.

"There was one man on the crew who was not in condition to row in the
race to-day, and I came very near letting him out. Now I am glad I did
not, for, although he had a bad felon on his left hand, there was no man
of the crew who pulled a stiffer stroke or showed more lasting powers
till the finish was reached. He fainted then, it is true, but it was
because of the frightful pain in his hand and arm, and I wish you to
remember that he did not faint till the victory was won."

"Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"

Not even Bob Collingwood himself received a greater ovation. Frank was
seized, he was lifted aloft, he was perched on the shoulders of his
friends, and then there was a general howl for a speech.

Frank felt himself thrill from his hair to his toes; his eyes were
dimmed with moisture, even though he laughed. In his bosom there was a
choking sensation of gratitude and love for his comrades and the
admiring throng around him. He forgot that he had a single foe at
Yale--that he had a foe in all the wide world.

"Boys," he said, somewhat brokenly, "I did my best for dear old
Yale--that is all."

That was all he said. It was enough. It seemed to touch a chord in
every breast, and there was a ring of patriotism in the cheering that
followed.

"Here's to good Old Yale--drink it down!
Here's t