“We’re waiting for you with open arms!” screamed Fatty Hendry.
As the two shells swept on with less than three quarters of a mile still to be covered, the sailboats and motor-boats began to crowd in behind to get a better view of the finish. This caused something of a mix-up, in which two sloops came to grief, one losing her bowsprit. But to this accident nobody just then paid any attention.
Among the motor-boats to come up on the outer side of the course was that containing Tommy Flanders and his cronies. The fellow who the season before had been batted out of the box and who had just now lost in the four-oared race, was so savage and gloomy he was almost ready to do anything. Privately he had bet not only on the race which he had helped to lose, but he had also bet rather heavily on the race now taking place. Already he could see all his spending money being swept away and himself in debt to several of his fellow cadets.
“Hi! let me run the boat a little, Durgin,” he said suddenly to the old boatman. “I want to get a good view of this finish.”
“I’ll run her. Just tell me where you want to go,” answered Nat Durgin. Even though the motor-boat was rather old, she had been newly painted and he was rather choice of her. He knew that other boats would crowd in and he did not wish to get into any mix-up and have his craft scratched up.
But Flanders would not listen, and crowding the old boatman to one side he seized the wheel of the motor-boat and sent the craft ahead almost directly for the spot for which the two racing shells were heading.
“Hi! Hi! Don’t go too close!” cried old Durgin, in alarm. “Don’t interfere with the race!”
“I know what I’m doing!” answered Tommy Flanders. “You let me alone!”
It was now plain to Tommy’s cronies that he was up to some trick. The shell closest to the motor-boat was that belonging to Colby Hall, and now it was less than twenty yards away.