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It was the first day on the river, and everyone down at Newell Boat-house was happy--not only the tall musclemen in chamois-seated pants, but even the coxes, especially a little Freshman who had never taken a shell out before.
In the general excitement one stalwart oarsman forget himself and put a large and capable foot through the paper-thin bottom of the shell. Everyone was disturbed, but there were lots of other shells. So they got in another and rowed off. Coming upstream, the little cox didn't see a cake of ice, and suddenly the boat was split from bow to stern, and sank unceremoniously.
So the motor boat came along and picked up the iced rowers and the little cox, and towed the splintered hulk shorewards, while Tom Bolles laughed and laughed, because he knew the first race was six weeks off.
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