The pace had now reached the limit. Neither of the young crews seemed capable of doing any more. But Brad made a discovery that appalled him. Colon was weakening! The boy had received such a shock on the previous day, when he came so near being drowned in the river, that he was not in as good condition for bearing the tremendous nervous strain as the balance of the crew.
Brad recognized the signs, and feared the worst. Unless they could relax presently Colon would have to give up exhausted. And, of course, that would lose them the race.
It was too bad, and Brad, being a high-spirited lad, would feel the defeat keenly; but he was determined not to take too great chances. When he saw that Colon had reached the limit he meant to slacken the pace, no matter what happened, nor how much the crew shouted at him for a "quitter."
Buck's boat was coming on again now. Brad doubted whether they had been able to put any fresh vim into their efforts, for that seemed next to impossible, since already every fellow was straining his muscles to the limit. It must be that the growing weakness of Colon was beginning to make itself felt.
Well, what they could not cure they must endure. Colon was too good a fellow to take chances of doing him an injury that would put him off the crew indefinitely. They needed his strong back in that real race with Mechanicsburg.
The others had by now discovered that the outlaw boat was slowly forging ahead, and that, despite all their efforts, the gain continued. Slowly they could see each opposing oarsman creeping along; and it was discouraging to feel that after all Buck seemed to have the better "stayers" in his crew.
Already they could hear the low, taunting remarks which the others were calling out, and they stung. Defeat is hard enough to stand, when pitted against honorable, high-minded fellows, whose first thought is to give an encouraging cheer for their whipped rivals; but it is doubly painful when forced to listen to all manner of insulting remarks from rough lads devoid of decent feelings, and only bent upon "rubbing it in."
Brad had really lost all hope. He was even about to throw up the sponge, and slacken the pace to such an extent that the people of Riverport, seeing the two boats coming down the river so far apart, would never think they had been racing.
Then something happened, unexpectedly, as it always does in a boat race.
Brad heard a sudden loud snap. He saw that the crew in the other boat seemed to be floundering around in the utmost confusion. One fellow even toppled overboard, though he immediately clutched hold of the speeding boat, and was dragged along with it.