“Shall I take it?” he heard.
“You?” he said, surprised. “You can’t—anyway—it—it—wouldn’t be a race—they’d—they’d—”
In a sudden, abandoned frenzy of striving, Connie brought his canoe within a length of the other. In its way it was a feat, but it spent his last ounce of energy and left his side hurting as if he had been stabbed. Encouraged by the cheering he drove his paddle into the water with a vertical force that eased his panic fears, but had no effect upon his progress. The canoe seemed to halt and jerk like a balky horse.
Now he heard the deafening cheers as in a kind of trance.
“Walk away from him, Red!”
“You’re losing him! Keep it up!”
“Step on it, Red!”
“Give her the gas!”
“Let her out, Red!”
“Oh boy, watch him step!”