The excitement now grew intense ashore as Mark was seen to draw up even with McNulty.
“He can never catch the leaders,” yelled Bascomb.
“That boy is a wizard with the oars,” said a professor.
Then all saw Mark deliberately rest his oars a second, raise his skull-cap to McNulty, and then shoot on toward the leaders.
Such a yell as went up ashore made the buildings ring.
Ahead Perry and Clemmons were struggling manfully, the latter bending every energy to defeat Merrill, whom he now had come to fear, for that raising of his cap to McNulty showed that he had confidence in his power to win.
On they swept, Clemmons leading Perry half a length and Merrill three lengths behind the latter.
The finish was yet a third of a mile away, and the pace was terrific, for all realized that Mark Merrill had taken tremendous chances for losing by his play at the start, for every one now knew that he had been purposely playing.
Nearer came the goal, and Perry still held his place on Clemmons’ quarter.
But Mark had lessened the daylight between them until he was but a length astern.