When Frank came up, he was seen to be swimming neck and neck with Ward Hammond, and the goal not a dozen yards away.
Then pandemonium again broke loose on the shore.
Inch by inch, and foot by foot, Frank again drew ahead of his antagonist. The crowd yelled like mad. A dozen men crowded to the water’s edge to take him by the hand, for they saw that he was to be the winner.
In vain Ward Hammond threshed and flailed. His wind and strength were gone.
Merriwell reached the landing three yards in the lead, and was immediately drawn out on the boards.
Then, all wet as he was, he was hoisted to the shoulders of his admirers—to the shoulders of men who loved pluck and fair play—and borne around the boathouse, while they bellowed at the top of their lungs:
“See, the conquering hero comes!”
After that there were exhibitions of fancy diving and swimming by Frank Merriwell and others, which were not taken part in by the disgruntled Hammond, however, and by only a few of his intimate friends.
Thus the swimming ended, to the entire satisfaction of those who had waited so long and so patiently for its beginning.
“And to-morrow comes that mountain climb,” said Merriwell, speaking to Colson, when they were again in the dressing-room. “I wonder if Hammond will be as palpitatingly anxious for that as he was for this swim?”