wn of all he had done.

Words seemed on the verge of the coach's lips. Deacon's eyes
strained upon them as he sat stiffly in his seat. But no words came;
the coach turned away.

"All right," he said spiritlessly. "Paddle back to the float."

The coxswains barked their orders; sixteen oars rattled in their
locks; the glistening shells moved slowly homeward.

Tingling from his plunge in the river, Jim Deacon walked up the
bluff from the boathouse to the group of cottages which constituted
Baliol's rowing-quarters. Some of the freshman crew were playing
indoor baseball on the lawn under the gnarled trees, and their
shouts and laughter echoed over the river. Deacon stood watching them.
His face was of the roughhewn type, in his two upper-class years his
heavy frame had taken on a vast amount of brawn and muscle. Now his
neck was meet for his head and for his chest and shoulders; long,
slightly bowed limbs filled out a picture of perfect physique.

No one had known him really well in college. He was working his way
through. Besides, he was a student in one of the highly scientific
engineering courses which demanded a great deal of steady application.
With no great aptitude for football--he was a bit slow-footed--with
little tune or inclination for social activities, he had
concentrated upon rowing, 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 a Baliol varsity oar
which he had heard and believed was likely to stand him in stead in
life. Baliol alumni, which include so many men of wealth and power,
had a habit of not overlooking young graduates who have brought fame
to their alma mater.

As Deacon stood watching the freshmen at play, Dick Rollins, the
crew captain, came up.

"They sent down the time-trial results from the Shelburne quarters,
Deacon."

Never in his life had one of the great men of the university spoken
that many words, or half as many, to Jim Deacon, who stared at the
speaker.

"The time--oh, yes; I see."

"They did twenty minutes, thirty seconds."

Deacon whistled.

"Well," he said at length, "you didn't get the boat moving much
to-day." He wanted to say more, but could think of nothing. Words
came rather hard with him.

"You nearly lugged the second shell ahead of us to-day, hang you."

"No use letting a patient die because he doesn't know he's sick."

Rollins grimaced.

"Yes,