"Are you ready?"
Frank grasped his oar firmly, and drew in his breath.
The oars flashed in the water, and then it seemed to Frank as if the other crew were fast drawing away from them. He clenched his teeth and threw all his power into the stroke, pulling with every muscle of his body from his scalp to his toes. The river was white with the foam churned by the oars. There seemed to be a deafening noise of rushing water and rattle of oars in the rowlocks. Marston's jersey had been hung on a nail, and this had caused a projection in it at the back of the neck. On this Frank fixed his eyes, neither looking to right or left of him for fear he should make the boat roll and lose time. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw that he was opposite number two in the rival boat, and he knew that they were gaining. Another dozen strokes and they were clear. Then Marston eased a bit, and the boys got into a little better time. Their coxswain tried to take the water of the other boat, and thus nearly caused a foul at the bend in the river, but Marston shook his head at him and he steered his own course.
Frank had now lost his nervousness, and felt pretty comfortable and able to take a little notice of what was passing on the banks, where a small crowd was running at the top of its speed abreast of them; a noise which had been humming in his ears resolving itself into the eager shouts of the partisans of the rival crews.
Dick was well in advance, saying, "Well rowed, number three; splendidly rowed, Frank;" and Jimmy was a little way behind him shouting as excitedly. Frank for a time fell into the error of thinking that he was doing the real work of the boat, and began to row somewhat too violently, when a warning voice from the bank cried out—"Steady, steady number three!" and that recalled him to himself.
They were now in the straight reach, and in sight of the winning-post, and their opponents were steadily gaining on them. "Why doesn't Marston quicken?" thought Frank impatiently; but his stroke knew what he was about, and he kept on steadily until the boats were level once more. Frank's hands were becoming numbed, for he was so afraid of slipping his oar that he grasped it more firmly than was needful. His wind was going too, and his tongue seemed swollen and clove to the roof of his mouth. He ventured a side glance at number three in the other boat, and was relieved to find that he seemed in quite as bad a plight as himself. An unlucky swan got in the way, and Frank struck it violently with his oar, and very nearly caught a crab in consequence. A sudden puff of wind blew somebody's hat off, and Frank smiled as he saw it float past and knew that it was Dick's.
The oars flashed with increasing quickness, the shouts on the bank grew louder, and still the long slim boats swept over the water side by side, their opponents drawing slightly ahead.
