Again the Rover boys went at the rowing with a will, increasing their stroke until it was six to the minute more than that of Koswell and Larkspur. The latter were frantic, and tried to do likewise, but found it impossible. Inch by inch the Rovers' craft went ahead. Now it was half a length, then a length, then two lengths.
"Say, there is rowing for you!" was the comment of a senior. "Just look at them bend to it!"
"Yes, and look at the quick recovery," added another fourth-year student.
From two lengths the Rovers went three lengths ahead. Then Koswell missed a stroke, and tumbled up against Larkspur.
"Hi! What are you doing?" spluttered Larkspur in disgust.
"Cou—couldn't hel—help it," panted Jerry, He was all but winded, for the pulling had been too much for him.
"The Rovers win! The Rovers win!" was the shout that went up, and in the midst of the hubbub Dick and Tom crossed the line, winning by at least six lengths. Koswell and Larkspur were so disgusted that they did not even finish, but stopped rowing and turned away from the float.
"The Rovers win," announced Frank Holden. "A fine race, too," he added. "Let me congratulate you," and he waved his hand pleasantly to Dick and Tom.
"I got a pain in my side, and that made me miss the stroke," said
Jerry Koswell lamely. "Some day I'll race them again, and win, too."
"You should have won this time," growled Dudd Flockley when he was alone with his cronies. "I dropped twenty dollars on that race."