Where are we now? Those willows on my left are, I know, just half a mile from the winning-post. Shall we, in that distance, be able to pull up the length which now divides us and our rivals? There is a chance yet! The leading boat is not going as fast as it was a minute ago. I can tell that by the eddies from their oars which sweep past.
“How much?” inquired Blades again, as he swung forward.
“One!” I replied.
I could see by the gleam in his eyes that he had hope still of making that one length nothing before the winning-post was reached.
That shout from the bank means something, surely!
“Well rowed indeed, Parkhurst!”
“They’re overlapped!”
Yes, those who could see it were watching the little pink flag at the prow of our boat creeping, inch by inch, up the stern of our rivals’. The eddies from their oars came past nearer now, and the “thud” of their outriggers sounded closer.
Yes, we are gaining without doubt; but shall we overtake them in time to avoid defeat? I can see a mass of people ahead on the banks, and know that they are gathered opposite the winning-post. It can’t be a quarter of a mile off now!
Again that shout from the bank. Ah, yes, our bow oar is level with their stroke. “Now you have it!” shout our fellows.