“Hurrah! We win the four-oared race!”
“My! but isn’t that a close finish?”
“Here is where Colby Hall puts it over Longley!”
The yells from the Colby cadets and their friends were deafening. Many of the girls from Clearwater Hall joined in, and Ruth became so excited she grabbed Martha and Mary and kissed them both.
“I’m so glad your cousins helped win that race!” she said.
“I’m going down to see them come in,” said Mary, and quickly made her way out of the crowd of girls, followed by her cousin.
“I’m going down too!” came from Alice Strobell.
“So am I!” put in Annie Larkins, for these two girls had often been in company with Andy and Randy, and the four were quite chummy.
Of course Jack and Fred had to be on hand to see the winning oarsmen come in, and they were first among the crowd to clap their cousins and the others of the crew on the back and congratulate them.
“Some race, I’ll say!” declared the young major. “I’m proud of you!”
“I made them save their strength for the final quarter,” answered Walt Baxter, in reply to a question from several persons. “I knew Longley couldn’t keep up the pace they set.”
“Oh, this is glorious!” burst out Alice Strobell, as she and Annie Larkins came up and shook hands with the twins.
Then May came forward to congratulate Spouter, and Dan Soppinger and Walt Baxter were not forgotten. There was a general hubbub and a general handshaking which lasted for fully ten minutes.
In the meantime the Longley crew had returned to their dock. Here they found a number of cadets and others to sympathize with them. Tommy Flanders looked “mad enough to chew nails,” as one of the Colby cadets reported later on.
“It wasn’t a fair race,” growled Flanders. “They tried to foul us going around the island.”
“Of course they tried to foul us,” put in Billy Sands.
This report, however, was not true. In fact, it was proved by a number of eye witnesses that if there had been any fault at all in rounding the island it lay with the Longley crew and not with the cadets from Colby Hall. Otherwise the race had been a perfectly fair one from start to finish.
“I guess Tommy Flanders will sing in a little lower tone of voice after this,” was Fred’s comment, when the excitement had subsided a little. “My, but I bet he feels sick!”
“He made a mistake by blowing so hard beforehand,” answered Jack. “Now our crew can blow and have something to blow about.”
There was no doubt but that the Longley following was very much disappointed at the showing so far made. Of course, two of their cadets had won the singles, but the four-oared race was considered much more important. Even the blaring out of the brass band did not dispel their gloom. However, a little later it was time to get ready for the eight-oared race, and then the spirits of the Longley boys seemed to recover.
“Here is where we’ll show Colby Hall what’s what!” said one of the crowd. “After all, it’s the eight-oared race that counts. The others are only of secondary importance.”
“Sour grapes!” yelled one of the Colby cadets who overheard this remark. “You know the four-oared race is almost as important as the one to come off.”
As soon as they could do so, the Rover twins and their chums who had won the four-oared race put their shell away, had a rub-down, donned their uniforms, and then joined the other cadets. The Longley crew also put their shell away, and then Tommy Flanders and his cronies seemed to disappear.
“I guess they don’t want to be questioned about the race,” remarked Ruth to Martha, when they chanced to see the Longley boys hurrying off.
“Well, it’s a bitter pill for anybody to swallow,” answered Jack’s sister. “No one likes to be defeated.”
Flanders, Halliday, Sands and a number of others had come over to the Haven Point side of the lake in a private motor-boat belonging to an old boatman named Nat Durgin. The craft was one that had been on the lake for a great number of years, being used for all sorts of odd jobs.
“Come on! We’ll watch the last race from out on the lake,” said Flanders. “I’m not going back in that bunch to be laughed at.”
“Just my idea,” answered Paul Halliday, lighting a cigarette.
They had hired the motor-boat for the afternoon, so they could go where they pleased. Durgin himself ran the craft, not caring to trust it in the hands of any one else. He was a nice old fellow, although a bit lazy, and nearly everybody around the lake knew him.
At the appointed time the two eight-oared shells flashed into appearance, each manned by a sturdy-looking crew and a coxswain. For this race there had been chosen some of the best oarsmen at both Colby and Longley.
“Here they come!”
“Now for another fine race!”
“Oh, I hope we win this one too!” cried Fred to his cousins.
“So do I,” answered Randy quickly. “That will show Longley they are not so much, even if they did take the singles.”
There was a wild cheering on all sides and the band blared forth merrily. In the meantime the official motor-boats darted here, there and everywhere trying to keep the other boats off the course. This was not so easy, especially for the sailing craft, because the wind was freshening slightly, and those on the sailing boats wanted, of course, to keep as close as possible in order to see everything that took place. At last, however, everything was in readiness, and at the report of a pistol the two crews started off as one, side by side.
“A perfect start!” cried Colonel Colby.
“I never saw a better,” put in old Si Crews.
The eight-oared race was to be about three miles in length, taking a course that was triangular in shape and bringing the boats at one point close to the Clearwater Hall shore.
During the first leg of the triangle the shells kept side by side, neither boat gaining more than a foot over the other.
“Gee, but they’re both keeping at it!” cried Jack, who was watching through a pair of fieldglasses he had brought along.
“They’re both out for blood, and no mistake,” was Spouter’s comment.
“Maybe Gif is holding our boys back,” suggested Fatty Hendry. “He knows how to manage them if anybody does.”
“I heard Si Crews telling him to watch their wind,” came from Dan Soppinger. “That’s what helped us. Walt didn’t crowd us until he knew that we could hold out; and then he drove us for fair. If that race had been a hundred feet longer I’d have keeled over,” he added, with a shake of his head.
On and on swept the two shells, and then it was seen that Colby Hall was slowly going ahead, first a foot, then a yard, then two yards.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” yelled Fred, throwing his cap into the air. “Now our boys are doing it!”
“Colby! Colby!” was the cry that swept across the water. “Go it, boys! Go it!”
“Pull, Longley, pull!” was the cry of the opposition. “You can do it! Pull for all you’re worth!”
And then there was such a hubbub that hardly a word of what was said could be understood. As before, the horns and rattles added to the din, and if the brass band was playing nobody heard it.
Gif was certainly handling his crew superbly, but the coxswain of the Longley oarsmen also understood his business, and now he increased the stroke just a little and then slowly but surely Longley began to creep up an inch at a time. Now it was less than a yard behind, now only a foot, and now the two shells were once more bow and bow.
“That’s the way to do it, Longley! Hurrah!”
“Keep it up! Make Colby take your wash!”
There had been a moment of intense suspense and silence, but now another roar went forth as the hopes of Longley revived. Everybody was again on his feet and all sorts of objects were thrown into the air, many of them going overboard into the lake. And now the racers had rounded the second mark and had but little more than a mile to go. This was close to the shore at Clearwater Hall, and many people lining the bank were on hand to encourage the young oarsmen.
Longley had crept ahead a full yard, but now Gif spoke quietly but earnestly to those under him. His body swayed back and forward a little quicker and with a longer motion, and the oarsmen caught the swing, their bodies moving with the precision of a machine. The long eight-oared shell seemed fairly to leap from the water, and in a twinkling the lead of the rival shell was cut down and Colby shot ahead.
“Hurrah! Look at that!” was the cry. “Colby leads!”
“Come on, you duffers!” yelled Dan Soppinger. “Come on! The race is yours!”
“We’re waiting for you with open arms!” screamed Fatty Hendry.
As the two shells swept on with less than three quarters of a mile still to be covered, the sailboats and motor-boats began to crowd in behind to get a better view of the finish. This caused something of a mix-up, in which two sloops came to grief, one losing her bowsprit. But to this accident nobody just then paid any attention.
Among the motor-boats to come up on the outer side of the course was that containing Tommy Flanders and his cronies. The fellow who the season before had been batted out of the box and who had just now lost in the four-oared race, was so savage and gloomy he was almost ready to do anything. Privately he had bet not only on the race which he had helped to lose, but he had also bet rather heavily on the race now taking place. Already he could see all his spending money being swept away and himself in debt to several of his fellow cadets.
“Hi! let me run the boat a little, Durgin,” he said suddenly to the old boatman. “I want to get a good view of this finish.”
“I’ll run her. Just tell me where you want to go,” answered Nat Durgin. Even though the motor-boat was rather old, she had been newly painted and he was rather choice of her. He knew that other boats would crowd in and he did not wish to get into any mix-up and have his craft scratched up.
But Flanders would not listen, and crowding the old boatman to one side he seized the wheel of the motor-boat and sent the craft ahead almost directly for the spot for which the two racing shells were heading.
“Hi! Hi! Don’t go too close!” cried old Durgin, in alarm. “Don’t interfere with the race!”
“I know what I’m doing!” answered Tommy Flanders. “You let me alone!”
It was now plain to Tommy’s cronies that he was up to some trick. The shell closest to the motor-boat was that belonging to Colby Hall, and now it was less than twenty yards away.
“That’s right, Tommy!” chuckled Paul Halliday. “Give ’em a whole lot of wash! Soak ’em good!”
“That’s what I’m going to do,” hissed Flanders through his set teeth. And then he drove the motor-boat still closer.
“Get away from there! Get away from there!” was the cry from one of the motor-boats that was trying to keep the course clear.
“Go to grass!” muttered Billy Sands. “Drive her in, Tommy! Give ’em all the wash you can!”
“You’ll hit their oars, you young fool! Keep away from there,” suddenly yelled old Nat Durgin, and then he tried to push Tommy Flanders away from the wheel.
“Let me alone!” said Flanders, and began to struggle.
Nat Durgin’s blood was up. He did not like Flanders or his cronies any too well, and they had beat him down in the price to be paid for the use of the motor-boat. Without ceremony the old man slapped Flanders heavily in the face, then shut off the motor and turned the craft out into the lake.
“That’s the stuff, Durgin!” shouted a man from one of the boats lying nearby. “Throw that young fool overboard!”
“That’s right! Give him a bath!” came from another boat.
“Say! what do you mean by hitting me?” roared Tommy Flanders, in a rage. “You keep your hands off of me!”
“And you keep your hands off the wheel of this boat!” returned old Durgin sternly.
“I won’t pay a cent for the use of this boat!” snapped Tommy.
“You say another word and I’ll have you locked up for disorderly conduct,” answered the old boatman heatedly. “You sit down and behave yourself. I’m running this boat, and you’re not going to break up that race.”
“I wasn’t going to break up the race,” muttered Flanders in a sudden panic, for he realized that he might get into serious trouble if a report was made of what he had really attempted to do.
“We’ll see about this after the race is over,” answered Durgin.