The "Idaho" and "Connecticut" had gained a slight lead over Dan's boat in the brief delay.
Observing Coxswain Davis' remarkable act, the sailors once more set up a yell, and such a yell as it was!
A boat was quickly manned and a crew of jackies pulled to the place where the red-haired Sam was clinging lazily to the life ring that Dan had cast to him.
"He threw me overboard," complained Sam.
"That is the greatest piece of quick wit that I ever saw in my life," laughed the captain excitedly. "That boy deserves to win, but he can never do it with one man short in the boat."
Coxswain Davis had other views. He was still standing on the seat of the rocking, plunging boat, snapping out his commands to his men, and every man in that boat was thrilled with the encouragement that the little coxswain had instilled into him.
"Go it! Beef it! More steam, number four! Swing further, number eight! Hip! hip! hip! hip! hip! Hit her up! Faster, faster, I tell you! You're winning, I tell you! Drive it! Forty-five, stroke oar."
"I—I can't," gasped the stroke.
"Drive it, I tell you!" yelled Dan Davis, grabbing up the boat hook, brandishing it threateningly over the head of the stroke oar.
"Hip! hip! hip! hip!" he began sharp and quick, setting the pace for the higher speed. The stroke oar, with the perspiration running down his body, reached the stroke demanded.