He was in fact striding along in the middle of the road when the horn of a motorcar coming close behind startled him.  As he turned, the vehicle sped up to his side and then stopped with a grinding of brakes.

Dr. Nicholls, the coach, rose to his full height in the roadster and glared down at Deacon, while Junior Doane, who had been driving, stared fixedly over the wheel.  The coach’s voice was merely a series of profane roars.  He had ample lungs, and the things he said seemed to echo far and wide.  His stentorian anger afforded so material a contrast to the placid environment that Deacon stood dazed under the vocal avalanche, hearing but a blur of objurgation.

“Eh?” He paused as Junior Doane placed an admonishing hand upon his arm.

“I beg your pardon, Doctor; but I don’t think that is the right way.  May I say something to Deacon?”

The coach, out of breath, nodded and gestured, sinking into his seat.  “Look here, Jim Deacon, we’ve come to take you back.  You can’t buck out the race this way, you know.  It isn’t done.  Now, wait a minute!” he cried sharply as the boy in the road made to speak.  “I know why you ran away.  Jane Bostwick called me up and told me everything.  She hadn’t realized quite what she was doing——­”

“She—­she bungled everything.”

“Bungled!  What do you mean, Dr. Nicholls?”

“Nothing—­nothing!  You young idiot, don’t you realize you’re trying to kill yourself for life?  Jump into the car.”

“I’m not going to row.”  Deacon’s eyes smoldered upon the two.

Studying him a moment, Dr. Nicholls suddenly grasped the seriousness of Deacon’s mood.  He leaped from the car and walked up to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

“Look here, my boy:  You’ve let a false ideal run away with you.  Do you realize that some twenty-five thousand people throughout this country are having their interests tossed away by you?  You represent them.  They didn’t ask you to.  You came out for the crew and worked until you won a place for yourself, a place no one but you can fill.  There are men, there are families on this riverside to-day, who have traveled from San Francisco, from all parts of the country, to see Baliol at her best.  There are thousands who have the right to ask us that Shelburne is not permitted to win this afternoon.  Do you realize your respons——­”

Deacon raised his hand.

“I’ve heard it said often, Dr. Nicholls, that any one who gets in Cephas Doane’s way gets crushed.  I’m not afraid of him, nor of any one else, on my own account; but I’m afraid of him because of my father.  My father is getting to be an old man.  Do you think I am going to do anyth——­” Deacon’s voice, which had been gathering in intensity, broke suddenly.  He couldn’t go on.

“Jim Deacon!” There was a note of exhilaration in Junior Doane’s voice.  He hastily climbed out of the car and joined the coach at Deacon’s side.  “I’m not going to defend my father now.  No one knows him as I do; no one knows as I do the great big stuff that is in him.  He and I have always been close, and——­”