Across the pool, the Cubs of Den 1 were urging Ross to give his all. Both boys put on a final thrust of speed.
Dan’s arms ached with fatigue but his breath was good. Fight, fight, fight! The words pounded through his brain and conveyed themselves to his thrashing legs. His driving arms churned the water to foam as he put forth a supreme effort.
The finish line was just ahead. As Dan surged for it with a feel of power and strength, Ross suddenly seemed to cave in. His stroke lost all rhythm, arm and leg movements became jerky.
Dan moved steadily ahead of him, touching the wall a full length ahead. The audience burst into loud applause. Midge who came in third, after Ross, also was given a big hand.
“Well, you did it, boy!” Brad declared, clapping Dan on the back. “Look at that scoreboard!”
Mr. Hatfield was writing up the chalk figures—26 to 19 in favor of Den 2.
“We’ve won the silver cup!” Chips Davis added, joining in the congratulations. “And not on any fluke either!”
His breath recovered, Ross came around to offer Dan his hand.
“You swam a dandy race and deserved to win,” he said warmly. “From now on, I’m going in for heavy practice!”
“Next year we’ll have a real race,” Dan grinned. “You gave me stiff competition this season.”