The novel stroke was watched and criticised, and an old grad who was regarded as authority declared that the man who set the stroke for that crew was a comer, providing he was built of the right kind of stuff.
Then came the sophs and juniors, both pulling prettily and gracefully, and both being cheered by their classes.

The juniors were light, but they expected to walk away from the freshmen, as they had an expert at the stroke and had been coached by Collingwood.
Soon the three crews lined up, and the voice of the referee was heard: "Are you ready ?" Dead silence.
"Go!" Away shot the boats, and the sophs took the lead directly, their short, snappy stroke giving the boat the required impetus in short order.

The juniors held close on to them, while the freshmen seemed to take altogether too much time to get away, striking a regular, long, swinging stroke that seemed to be "overdone," as a jubilant sophomore spectator characterized it.
The sophs along the shore and on the point were wild with delight.

They danced and howled, confident of victory at the very outset.

The juniors were enthusiastic, but not so demonstrative as the sophomores.