One afternoon in early May, Coolidge turned the bow of the pair-oar upstream. For a mile Hardie’s oar played its old tricks, twisting in his hand and pulling under, tipping the boat, spoiling the stroke, filling with disgust and despair the hearts of the little crew. Near the Cottage Farm bridge they stopped to watch a college eight pass. When they started again, it occurred to Roger to see whether the rowlock would not carry his oar, and permit him to concentrate his attention on his slide and the recovery. To his surprise the oarlock did carry the oar. His wrists were relieved of an exhausting strain; his blade plunged under no longer. He found that a little easy toss of the oar at the end of the slide would bring the blade squarely into the water.
“What’s the matter with you, Bow?” called Coolidge, amazed. “You’re rowing right!”
[Illustration: AND WATCH THE VARSITY EIGHT SWEEP MAGNIFICENTLY BY.]
Hardie, delighted, gave his whole mind to his movement, ceasing to steal side-glances at his blade, and watching Wilmot’s back more closely. The oar was beginning to catch spontaneously and hard, his slide to return naturally with the motion of the boat. The pair-oar continued upstream to the edge of Soldiers’ Field, then turned and retraced its course,—a three-mile row,—but Roger felt no weariness. The relief from the awkward strain which he had been putting upon himself made the work seem like a rest. Just above the Harvard bridge they met the first boat, which stopped to enable the captain to watch them, and Pete sang out something which could not be heard. Later when they were all dressing in the boat-house, Coolidge asked what this message was.
“Oh, nothing of importance,” answered Talbot. “I only said that bow was doing well.”
“It seems to me of importance,” said Roger, whose face glowed with joy. “That’s more than you’ve said so far this year.”
“I’ve been thinking lately that I might never be able to say it at all,” said Talbot.
Meantime on the ball field things were going badly for Westcott’s. Dunn reconsidered his resolution and went out to give the batters practice and play general helper, but he couldn’t make Ben Tracy a good pitcher or Stover a forceful captain. The school appreciated Dunn’s efforts and thought better of him for them. Jason was studying, too, though with no very startling classroom results. He had a tutor for an hour every afternoon, and he often worked the whole evening in Hardie’s room.