He had heard of Merriwell's attempt to introduce the English stroke, and he did not approve of it.
After he had got through Merriwell took his men aside into another part of the boathouse and warned them against thinking of anything Collingwood had said.
"He is all right when he is talking to men who use his style of oar and the regular American stroke, but you will be broke up sure as fate if you think of what he has said that disagrees with my instructions.

It is too late now to make any change, and we must win or lose as we have practiced." "That's right," agreed every man.
"We'll win," said Rattleton, resolutely.
They could hear the cheering as the other races took place, and at last it came their turn.

How their hearts thumped! And it was Merriwell that quieted their unsteady nerves with a few low, calm words, which seemed to give them the bracer which they needed before going into the race.
'Umpty-eight yelled like a whole tribe of Indians, wildly waving flags, hats and handkerchiefs, as the freshman boat shot out upon the lake, with Merriwell at the stroke.

They did not row in the buff, as the weather was too cold, but all wore thin white shirts, with "'Umpty-eight" lettered in blue on the breast.
Old rowers looked the freshmen over with astonishment, for they gave the appearance of well-drilled amateurs, and not greenhorns.

There were a few expressions of approval.