At the boathouse there was a scene of riotous jollification. It was impossible to exclude the overjoyed friends of the crew. They crowded in and expressed their unbounded delight in almost every imaginable manner.

There was a popping of corks, and "fizz" began to flow freely. Now that the great race was over, the crew were no longer in training, and they were allowed to drink as much of the wine as they liked. It was forced upon them from all sides.

Merriwell was almost mobbed by the fellows who were determined that he should drink champagne with them.

"You can't refuse now, old man!" shouted Charlie Creighton. "I saw it all, and no one suspected there was anything the matter with you. Just to think that you rowed the race with a felon on your hand! It is marvelous! And I won a cool five hundred on Old Eli! Whoop! If you refuse to take a drink of champagne with me I'll call you out and shoot you through the liver pad!"

He was wildly waving a bottle of Mumm's about his head as he made this excited speech.

But Merriwell did refuse, and he did it with a firmness that showed them all that he could not be induced to drink.

"Queer chap, that Merriwell," commented Charlie Creighton, addressing his chum, Paul Hamilton. "Never knew him very well, but I've seen enough of him to know he's the clean white stuff even if he is a temperance crank."

"In the year and a half that he has been here," said Hamilton, "he has made a greater record in athletics than any other man ever made in twice that time. And think of his rowing the race to-day with that hand, and then fainting the moment he knew the line was crossed and Yale had won! I tell you, Creighton, that fellow is all sand—every bit of him."

"That's what he is," nodded Creighton. "He is running over with the true Yale spirit. I tell you, my boy, Old Yale bears mighty men! Come, let's kill this bottle of fizz, which I got off the ice expressly for Merriwell, confound him!"

Then they lost little time in opening the bottle and swallowing its sparkling contents.

Bob Collingwood was overwhelmed with congratulations. He said very little before the crowd, but to a particular friend he declared:

"It is one of the marvels of the year that we won to-day. Harvard outrowed us for fully three-quarters of the course, and she would have finished in the lead if her crew had been as stocky as ours. Their stroke is easier on a man than ours."

"Then you acknowledge at last that the Oxford stroke is superior to the American?" eagerly questioned the friend.

"I have acknowledged nothing yet, but I fear I'll be forced to."

The jubilant fellows were making the boathouse ring with songs of victory. About twenty flushed lads were roaring:

There were other songs, and in the midst of all this rejoicing a crowd of pretty girls, accompanied by chaperons, came into the boathouse.

Among them was Winnie Lee, who lost no time in finding Frank and congratulating him.

"I knew you would win, Frank—I knew you would!" she exclaimed, her bright eyes sparkling.

"Why, you are talking as if I rowed the whole race!" he said, laughing and blushing.

"Well, I'm sure they'd never won without you," she declared.

"That's like a girl! Of course Yale would have won anyhow! How can they beat us?"

At this moment Collingwood came up, accompanied by a gentleman who carried a case in his hand.

"Here, Merry, old boy," cried the captain of the crew, "I've brought a doctor to look after that hand of yours."

"What is the matter with your hand?" asked Winnie, anxiously.

"Oh, nothing much," assured Frank, carelessly.

"Nothing much, only there is a bad felon on it," said Collingwood.

"A felon? And you rowed with a felon on your hand? Oh, Frank!"

Winnie looked at him with added admiration showing in her eyes.

"That's what he did," nodded Collingwood. "It was the greatest display of grit I've ever seen. Do you wonder he flopped over in a dead faint when we crossed the line at the finish?"

The doctor looked at Frank's hand, which was now badly inflamed. After a thorough examination the physician glanced up at Frank and observed:

"If you were able to row with this hand, I rather think you'd endure burning at the stake by a band of Indians without uttering a murmur!"

"You dear fellow!" cried Winnie, with girlish enthusiasm; "I feel just like giving you a good hug!"

Then Frank blushed more than ever.

The doctor opened his case and proceeded to dress Merriwell's hand.

While the physician was thus employed Frank was somewhat surprised to observe at a little distance the same man who had offered him a drink of brandy as he was recovering from his swoon at the close of the race.

This man was watching the boy in a strange manner, but the moment he saw he was observed he quickly turned away.

Frank's curiosity was aroused.

"I wonder who he is and what he wants here?" thought the boy. "How did he get in here, anyway? He seems to take a remarkable interest in me, and I can't say that I like it."

The man walked away and mingled with the throng.

In a short time Frank's hand was cared for, and the doctor gave directions for future treatment of the felon.

"It is bound to trouble you for some time, and you will find it very painful," he said. "After what you have done to-day, I doubt if you sleep much to-night."

"I don't care if I do not sleep for a week so long as Yale won!" declared the boy.

"You have the true Yale spirit," said the doctor, approvingly. "Yale men carry that unconquerable spirit out into the world, and that is why Old Eli turns out so many successful men in all walks of life. I think there is no fear as to your future, my boy."

"Thank you, sir," said Merriwell, simply.