College days! For a moment a dim light burned
in the back of his mind. It went out suddenly. Jim Deacon shrugged
and thought of the morrow's race. It was good to know he was going
to be a part of it. He could feel the gathering of enthusiasm,
exhilaration in the atmosphere--pent-up emotion which on the morrow
would burst like a thunderclap. In the quaint city five miles down
the river hotels were filling with the vanguard of the boat-race
throng--boys fresh from the poetry of Commencement; their older
brothers, their fathers, their grandfathers, living again the thrill
of youth and the things thereof. And mothers and sisters and
sweethearts! Deacon's nerves tingled pleasantly in response to the
glamour of the hour.
"Oh, Jim Deacon!"
"Hello!" Deacon turned his face toward the building whence the voice
came.
"Somebody wants to see you on the road by the bridge over the
railroad."
"See me? All right."
Filled with wonder, Deacon walked leisurely out of the yard and then
reaching the road, followed in the wake of an urchin of the
neighbourhood who had brought the summons, and could tell Deacon
only that it was some one in an automobile.
It was, in fact, Jane Bostwick.
"Jump up here in the car, won't you, Jim?" Her voice was somewhat
tense.
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