“It’s nip and tuck between the Neptune and the Ajax,” said some on shore. “The Alice doesn’t seem to be in it.”
“Queer, too,” said one man. “I thought she looked as good as any of them.”
“Jack, do you think Reff Ritter put some kind of a drag on us after all?” asked Pepper anxiously.
“No,” was the prompt answer.
“Then why are we falling behind?”
“Fortunes of war I suppose,” and the young major heaved a deep sigh.
“We have got to win!” shouted Andy.
“If we can,” said Jack. “I think we’ll stand a chance on the last leg—if the wind doesn’t shift again.”
The shifting wind had ruffed up the lake bosom not a little, and ever and anon the water dashed over the bow of the Alice, wetting every cadet on board. But the youths paid little attention to this—they were willing to be soaked a dozen times over if only they might win the race.
“More wind coming, I think,” said Stuffer, pointing to some clouds that were piling up.