At the appointed time the two eight-oared shells flashed into appearance, each manned by a sturdy-looking crew and a coxswain. For this race there had been chosen some of the best oarsmen at both Colby and Longley.
“Here they come!”
“Now for another fine race!”
“Oh, I hope we win this one too!” cried Fred to his cousins.
“So do I,” answered Randy quickly. “That will show Longley they are not so much, even if they did take the singles.”
There was a wild cheering on all sides and the band blared forth merrily. In the meantime the official motor-boats darted here, there and everywhere trying to keep the other boats off the course. This was not so easy, especially for the sailing craft, because the wind was freshening slightly, and those on the sailing boats wanted, of course, to keep as close as possible in order to see everything that took place. At last, however, everything was in readiness, and at the report of a pistol the two crews started off as one, side by side.
“A perfect start!” cried Colonel Colby.
“I never saw a better,” put in old Si Crews.
The eight-oared race was to be about three miles in length, taking a course that was triangular in shape and bringing the boats at one point close to the Clearwater Hall shore.