retched letter had been left anywhere but in his study.

"I say," said young Wyndham, after about an hour's spell of work, and
strangely enough starting the very topic with which Riddell's mind was
full--"I say, I think that boat-race business is blowing over, do you
know? You don't hear nearly so much about it now."

"The thing is, ought it to blow over?" said the captain, gravely.

"Why, of course! Besides, after all it may have been an accident. I
broke a bit of cord the other day, and it looked just as if it had been
partly cut through. Anyhow, it's just as much the Parretts business as
ours, and they aren't doing anything, I know."

"It would be a good deal more satisfactory to have it cleared up," said
Riddell.

"It would do just as well to have a new race, and settle the thing right
off--even if they were to lick us."

Wyndham went soon afterwards. Riddell was too much occupied with his
own perplexities to think much just then of the boy's views on this
burning question. And after all, had he thought of them, he would
probably have guessed, as the reader may have done, that Wyndham's
present cricket mania made him dread any reopening of the old soreness
between Parrett's and the schoolhouse, which would be sure to result,
among other things, in his exclusion, as a member of the latter
fraternity, from the coveted place in the second-eleven.

The next morning the captain was up early, and on his way to the boat-
house. Ever since the race the river had been almost deserted, at any
rate in the early mornings.

Consequently when Riddell arrived at the boat-house he found no one up.
After a good deal of knocking he managed to rouse the boatman.

"I want Tom," he said, "to steer me up to the Willows."

"You might have let me known you'd want the gig yesterday," said the
man, rather surlily; "I'd have left it out for you overnight."

Had it been Bloomfield or Fairbairn, or any other of the boating heroes
of Willoughby, Blades the boatman would have sung a very different song.
But a boatman does not know anything about senior classics.

"You'll find a boat moored by the landing there," said that functionary;
"and give a call for young Alf, he'll do to steer you."

But this would not suit Riddell at all. "No," said he; "I want Tom,
please, and tell him to be quick."

The man went off surlily, and Riddell was left to kick his heels for
twenty minutes in a state of very uncomfortable suspense.

At