Pierre, put your back into it." Or he would say, "Now, then, number
one; come, number two--a little elbow grease." Then the one who had been
dreaming pulled harder, the one who had got excited eased down, and the
boat's head came round.

But to-day they meant to display their biceps. Pierre's arms were hairy,
somewhat lean but sinewy; Jean's were round and white and rosy, and the
knot of muscles moved under the skin.

At first Pierre had the advantage. With his teeth set, his brow knit,
his legs rigid, his hands clinched on the oar, he made it bend from
end to end at every stroke, and the Pearl was veering landward. Father
Roland, sitting in the bows, so as to leave the stern seat to the two
women, wasted his breath shouting, "Easy, number one; pull harder,
number two!" Pierre pulled harder in his frenzy, and "number two" could
not keep time with his wild stroke.

At last the skipper cried: "Stop her!" The two oars were lifted
simultaneously, and then by his father's orders Jean pulled alone for
a few minutes. But from that moment he had it all his own way; he grew
eager and warmed to his work, while Pierre, out of breath and exhausted
by his first vigorous spurt, was lax and panting. Four times running
father Roland made them stop while the elder took breath, so as to get
the boat into her right course again. Then the doctor, humiliated and
fuming, his forehead dropping with sweat, his cheeks white, stammered
out:

"I cannot think what has come over me; I have a stitch in my side. I
started very well, but it has pulled me up."