The three cadets from Colby Hall to enter the singles were Bart White, Darrell Harkness, and Peter Floyd. They had wanted to be officers of the battalion, but having failed of election and still being somewhat popular Gif had given them the chance of representing the school on the water.
After all of the preliminaries had been arranged and the judges were in their places, the first race was called. It was for a little over a mile, around one of the small islands and back to the starting point. Soon the six single shells were lined up and at a report of a pistol they were off.
“Go it, boys! Go it for all you’re worth!” cried Jack enthusiastically. But this call was swallowed up in a volume of sound from several hundred throats.
The Colby Hall contestants held out well until the island, which was the turning point, was almost reached. Then, however, they began to lose ground, and when the island had been passed it was seen that the three oarsmen from Longley were in the lead.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! What did we tell you!” came from the cadets of the rival academy. “That’s the way to do it!”
“Come on, boys! The race is already yours!”
“Pull, Colby, pull!” screamed Fred, even though it was doubtful that his voice could carry such a distance. “Pull as you never pulled before!”
Swiftly the six single shells approached the finishing point of the race. Now it could be seen that one of the Longley oarsmen was slowly but surely dropping behind, while one of the rowers from Colby was just as surely forging ahead.
“Bart White is crawling up!”
“Pull, Bart! Pull!” was the cry from a Colby supporter. “You can win yet if you try!”