There was a faint cheer from the shore. Merriwell had won the race, and the man from Greenville was second. Welch had received a merited ducking, but was rescued from the water without much trouble.
Welch was furious. Over and over he declared he would have won the race had not Hodge fouled him, but the judges decided it was his own fault, as he was seen to deliberately get in Bart’s way.
This silenced him, but he looked sullen and revengeful, and continued to mutter to himself.
The canoe occupied by Hodge had not been injured by the collision, and Bart slowly paddled toward shore at Merriwell’s side when the race was over.
“Well, what do you think about it now?” he asked.
“I think I had the pull of my life to win,” admitted Frank. “I came near waiting too long before getting down to business.”
“Oh! I felt that one of us stood a good show to win,” said Bart; “but that was not what I meant.”
“Eh? Then what did you mean?”
“What do you think about Mr. Jim Welch?”
“I think he tried to foul me.”