Then you know how he'd feel about any one who took your place in
the boat. He can't hurt me. But he can break my father's heart----"

"Deacon, is that the opinion you have of my father!"

"Tell me the truth, Doane; is there the chance under the conditions
that with a choice between two men in the bank he might fail to see
Father? Isn't it human nature for a man as dominant and strong as he
is, who has always had or got most of the things he wants, to feel
that way?"

"Perhaps. But not if you can win out against Shelburne. Can't you
see your chance, Deacon? Go in and beat Shelburne; Father'll be so
glad he'll fall off the observation-train. You know how he hates
Shelburne. Any soreness he has about my missing out at stroke will
be directed at me--and it won't be soreness, merely regret. Don't you
get it?"

"And if we lose----"

"If we lose, there's the chance that we're all in the soup."

"I'm not, if I keep out of this thing----"

"If we lose with _me_ at stroke, do you suppose it will help you or
any one related to you with my father when he learns that Baliol
_would probably have won with you stroking_?

"My Lord, Jim Deacon," Doane went on as the other did not reply,
"do you suppose this is any fun for me, arguing with you to swing an
oar this afternoon when I would give my heart's blood to swing it in
your place?"

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Why do I do it? Because I love Baliol. Because her interests stand
above mine. Because more than anything I want to see her win. I
didn't feel this way when you beat me out for stroke. I'll admit it.
I didn't show my feelings, but I was thinking of nothing but my
licking----"

"Ah!"

"Just a minute, Jim. I didn't realize the bigness of the thing,
didn't appreciate that what I wanted to do didn't count for a damn.
Baliol, only Baliol! It all came to me when you bucked out. Baliol
is all that counts, Jim. If I can help her win by rooting from the
observation-car, all right! But--don't think it's any fun for me
urging you to come back and row. For I wanted to row this race, old
boy. I--I----"

Doane's voice faltered. "But I can't; that's all. Baliol needs a
better man--needs you. As for you, you've no right to consider
anything else. You go in--and win."

"Win!" Jim Deacon stood in the road, rigid, his voice falling to a
whisper. "Win!" Into his eyes came a vacant expression. For a moment
the group stood in the middle of the road as though transfixed. Then
the