now and see you stay so."

The dory was swung over the side, and the men dropped into her and
took their places at the oars. "Give way," cried the Captain,
settling himself in the bow with the gaff in his hand. "Hey,
Jim!" he shouted to the lookout far above, "hey, lay our course
for us." The lookout nodded, the oars fell, and the dory shot
forward in the direction indicated by the lookout.

"Kin you row, son? asked Kitchell, with sudden suspicion. Wilbur
smiled.

"You ask Charlie and Wing to ship their oars and give me a pair."
The Captain complied, hesitating.

"Now, what," he said grimly, "now, what do you think you're going
to do, sonny?"

"I'm going to show you the Bob Cook stroke we used in our boat in
'95, when we beat Harvard," answered Wilbur.

Kitchell gazed doubtfully at the first few strokes, then with
growing interest watched the tremendous reach, the powerful knee-
drive, the swing, the easy catch, and the perfect recover. The
dory was cutting the water like a gasoline launch, and between
strokes there was the least possible diminishing of the speed.

"I'm a bit out of form just now," remarked Wilbur, "and I'm used
to the sliding seat; but I guess it'll do." Kitchell glanced at
the human machine that once was No. 5 in the Yale boat and then at