"Won by a length!" cried Frank, scarcely able to speak. "Fellows, Riverside has the race!"
And a burst of cheers, shrill cries from girls, hoarse shouts from men, yells from the victorious school lads, greeted our heroes as they rested on their oars, panting, exhausted and weary, but inexpressibly happy. For had they not won? Had not the despised crew beaten the best four on the river? And was not Riverview coming into her own once more?
"Oh, it was a good race! A good race!" murmured Frank, as they slowly rowed back to the float and saw the welcoming hands stretched out to them. "A good race!"
CHAPTER XXIII
SPEAKING THEIR MINDS
"Well done, boys! Well done!" cried Coach Wallace, as he grasped Frank's hand.
"Yes, too well done to suit us," murmured Captain Roth ruefully. "My, but you fellows can row!" he complimented. "We were all in, but you finished strong. Will you shake?" and he gazed at the rival captain admiringly, holding out his hand.
"Sure," came Frank's quick answer. "I'm sorry we beat you, but it had to be."
"And with an old patched-up shell at that," went on the loser. "You ought to have a decent boat."
"Maybe we will have now that we've shown what we can do," said Andy with a smile. The members of the defeated crew shook hands with their successful rivals.