“Get after them, you dubs!” he bellowed, as the Eagle boat darted off, towing the captured sturgeon behind them.
It was Hunt’s object to overtake them and spear the “fish” again. In this case a fresh struggle, in which he might prove victorious, would ensue.
Everybody was now on the tiptoe of excitement. It was a race for the Eagles’ base. With Rob’s muscular young crew bending to their oars with the regularity of machine-driven mechanism, the boat bearing the green and black standard fairly hissed through the water. Behind her there towed clumsily the black form of the captured sturgeon.
“More steam! More steam!” shouted Hunt, dancing up and down in the bow of the craft, as the Hawk Patrol boys gave way with all their power. But pull as they would, they were no match for the Eagles, who had rested while they were needlessly exerting their strength.
“Eagles!”
“K-r-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee!”
“Go on, Hawks!”
“Don’t give up!”
“Pull, boys! PULL!”
The yells came now in one continuous roar, but they did not affect the result of the first heat at all.