the placid environment that Deacon stood dazed under the
vocal avalanche, hearing but a blur of objurgation.

"Eh?" He paused as Junior Doane placed an admonishing hand upon his
arm.

"I beg your pardon, Doctor; but I don't think that is the right way.
May I say something to Deacon?"

The coach, out of breath, nodded and gestured, sinking into his seat.
"Look here, Jim Deacon, we've come to take you back. You can't buck
out the race this way, you know. It isn't done. Now, wait a minute!"
he cried sharply as the boy in the road made to speak. "I know why
you ran away. Jane Bostwick called me up and told me everything. She
hadn't realized quite what she was doing----"

"She--she bungled everything."

"Bungled! What do you mean, Dr. Nicholls?"

"Nothing--nothing! You young idiot, don't you realize you're trying
to kill yourself for life? Jump into the car."

"I'm not going to row." Deacon's eyes smoldered upon the two.

Studying him a moment, Dr. Nicholls suddenly grasped the seriousness
of Deacon's mood. He leaped from the car and walked up to him,
placing a hand upon his shoulder.

"Look here, my boy: You've let a false ideal run away with you. Do
you realize that some twenty-five thousand people throughout this
country are having their interests tossed away by you? You represent
them. They didn't ask you to. You came out for the crew and worked
until you won a place for yourself, a place no one but you can fill.
There are men, there are families on this riverside to-day, who have
traveled from San Francisco, from all parts of the country, to see
Baliol at her best. There are thousands who have the right to ask us
that Shelburne is not permitted to win this afternoon. Do you
realize your respons----"

Deacon raised his hand.

"I've heard it said often, Dr. Nicholls, that any one who gets in
Cephas Doane's way gets crushed. I'm not afraid of him, nor of any
one else, on my own account; but I'm afraid of him because of my
father. My father is getting to be an old man. Do you think I am
going to do anyth----" Deacon's voice, which had been gathering in
intensity, broke suddenly. He couldn't go on.

"Jim Deacon!" There was a note of exhilaration in Junior Doane's
voice. He hastily climbed out of the car and joined the coach at
Deacon's side. "I'm not going to defend my father now. No one knows
him as I do; no one knows as I do the great big stuff that is in him.
He and I have always been close, and----"

"