On the river was a small steam launch that was loaded with admirers of the Alexandria crew. They waved hand and hats and shouted like a lot of wild Indians when they saw the Alexandria boat increase its lead so that clear water could be seen between it and the other boats.
With a regular, long swinging stroke, the other boats kept side by side for a time. Then Frank’s crew began to gain slightly on the Blue Cove lads.
Steadily Merriwell drove them on. He did not attempt a stiff spurt so soon, but forced them gradually, drawing away from Blue Cove. Soon the Yale boat was close behind that of Alexandria. The latter spurted, and then it was that Frank held close, like a leech, determined not to permit the crew from up the river any further advantage.
The stroke of the Yale crew was strong and steady, sending the boat through the water at high speed. Before a mile had been made the short stroke of the Alexandria men was beginning to tell on them.
And Blue Cove was clinging in a remarkable manner, for all of the fact that it had lost one of its best men at the last moment. Anson Addison, caught in the dastardly attempt to ruin Merriwell’s boat, had been dropped from the crew and expelled from the club.
In vain Spencer had urged Noel Spudd to take Addison’s place in the boat. Spudd longed to do so, but did not dare disobey his father to such an extent.
So another and far less valuable man was substituted, and Blue Cove felt that it had very little show of winning the race.
“You must save us, Merriwell,” said Kent Spencer, a few moments before the start was made.
“I am sure we’ll do our best,” nodded Frank.
The shouts of the Alexandria crowd on the launch became less and less confident as the Yale boat was seen to creep up on the leader. At last it lapped Alexandria. Then, despite the most desperate efforts of the crew from up the river, the Yale boat crept alongside and gradually took the lead.