Though the coming trial had not been advertised in the papers, so as to draw together a rabble of betting men and ill-conditioned lookers-on, there was a considerable gathering, made up chiefly of the villagers and the students of the two institutions.  Among them were a few who were disposed to add to their interest in the trial by small wagers.  The bets were rather in favor of the “Quins,” as the University boat was commonly called, except where the natural sympathy of the young ladies or the gallantry of some of the young men led them to risk their gloves or cigars, or whatever it might be, on the Atalantas.  The elements of judgment were these:  average weight of the Algonquins one hundred and sixty-five pounds; average weight of the Atalantas, one hundred and forty-eight pounds; skill in practice about equal; advantage of the narrow boat equal to three lengths; whole distance allowed the Atalantas eight lengths,—­a long stretch to be made up in a mile and a half.

And so both crews began practising for the grand trial.

II

The boat-race.

The 10th of June was a delicious summer day, rather warm, but still and bright.  The water was smooth, and the crews were in the best possible condition.  All was expectation, and for some time nothing but expectation.  No boat-race or regatta ever began at the time appointed for the start.  Somebody breaks an oar, or somebody fails to appear in season, or something is the matter with a seat or an outrigger; or if there is no such excuse, the crew of one or both or all the boats to take part in the race must paddle about to get themselves ready for work, to the infinite weariness of all the spectators, who naturally ask why all this getting ready is not attended to beforehand.  The Algonquins wore plain gray flannel suits and white caps.  The young ladies were all in dark blue dresses, touched up with a red ribbon here and there, and wore light straw hats.  The little coxswain of the Atalanta was the last to step on board.  As she took her place she carefully deposited at her feet a white handkerchief wrapped about something or other, perhaps a sponge, in case the boat should take in water.

At last the Algonquin shot out from the little nook where she lay, —­long, narrow, shining, swift as a pickerel when he darts from the reedy shore.  It was a beautiful sight to see the eight young fellows in their close-fitting suits, their brown muscular arms bare, bending their backs for the stroke and recovering, as if they were parts of a single machine.

“The gals can’t stan’ it agin them fellers,” said the old blacksmith from the village.

“You wait till the gals get a-goin’,” said the carpenter, who had often worked in the gymnasium of the Corinna Institute, and knew something of their muscular accomplishments.  “Y’ ought to see ’em climb ropes, and swing dumb-bells, and pull in them rowin’-machines.  Ask Jake there whether they can’t row a mild in double-quick time,—­he knows all abaout it.”