Collingwood looked troubled. It was evident there was something on his mind. Fred Flemming, in a new spring suit, is talking with Popkay, the little c.o.x. Some wonder that Flemming, who had been dropped for Merriwell, should be there.
Among the spectators on a certain yacht are Tom Thornton and Willis Paulding. They are watching for the crew to appear, and, as they watch, Thornton says something that betrays a knowledge of Flemming"s presence in the boathouse.
"I"ll go you two to one that Flem rows after all," he declares. "Do you dare take me, Paulding?"
"By the way you say that I should think you were betting on a sure thing, don"t yer "now," drawled Willis.
"I am," a.s.serted Tom. "I have it straight that Merriwell is not in trim, and will be laid off. Flemming was called to quarters at the last moment."
"It"ll be a corker on Merriwell if he is not allowed to row, by Jawve!"
"Yes; it will give me no end of satisfaction. That fellow put up the "Grace Darling" job on me, and Diamond helped him to carry it out. I have been a guy for the whole college ever since Danny Griswold told down at Morey"s how he fooled me. Some day I"ll wring that little rat"s neck!"
"They never could have worked the game if Horner hadn"t helped them."
"Of course not; but I have cut clear of Horner. We have separated, and I never give the fellow a look when we meet. Like the other fools, he is stuck on Merriwell, and he thought he was doing something cunning when he helped them work the horse on me."
"If Merriwell doesn"t row you"ll have a chance to get back at them. You can say you knew it all the time, old chappie."
"Oh, he won"t row to-day, and I"ll rub it in when I get the opportunity."
Within the boathouse, at this very moment, Bob Collingwood was saying to Frank Merriwell:
"You cannot row in the race to-day, Merriwell. You are out of condition."
Frank turned pale.
"If you say I can"t row, that settles it," he said, huskily; "but I think you are making a mistake. I can row, and I"ll prove it, if you will give me the chance. You shall have no cause to complain of me."
"But I know you are not fit to pull an oar. You have tried to conceal it from me, but I know you have a felon on your hand. Am I right?"
"You are right," calmly admitted Frank; "but give me a chance, and I will row for all there is in me, even if it takes my arm off at the shoulder."
Collingwood looked into Merriwell"s eyes, and what he saw there caused him to say: "All right, my boy, you shall row if we lose by it."
"If we lose the race it will not be my fault," returned Merriwell.
The Harvard cheer broke from a thousand throats as the Harvard crew came down the stream and arrived first at the start. Yale followed almost immediately, and two students who were on a trim little yacht craned their necks and glared at the men in the boat.
Something like a groan escaped the lips of Tom Thornton, and Willis Paulding declared:
"I don"t see Flemming, but Merriwell is there!"
"Yes!" grates Tom; "he has managed to keep his place somehow! Well, that settles it! Harvard will win!"
Orders were shouted, and then it was seen that both crews were "set."
The men, their brown backs gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, were reaching forward at arm"s length, ready for the first stroke.
A voice was heard commanding them to make ready, then came the cry: "Go!"
There was a pistol shot, and both boats darted forward. The four-mile race to the railway bridge piers of New London had begun.
In an instant the great crowd set up a wild cheering, and colors fluttered everywhere. Away went the boats, side by side. Harvard"s style of rowing had changed completely from that of the previous year, when her boat had jumped at every stroke. Now her crew bent with a long sweep that sent the boat through the water with a steady motion.
Yale used a shorter and more snappy stroke. The men seemed to have more life at the start, but it was the kind of a stroke that was sure to pump away their energy to a great extent in a long race.
But Collingwood was crafty. He knew that it would be an easy thing to take the life out of his men by steep work at the beginning, and he doubted if the advantage thus gained could be held. To a certain extent, he regulated Yale"s speed by that of its rival.
In his heart Collingwood feared Harvard"s new style of rowing. He was not willing to acknowledge that anything English could be superior to anything American, and yet he remembered how the freshmen of "Umpty-eight, coached by Merriwell, had adopted something like the Oxford stroke, and had won the race from the soph.o.m.ores at Lake Saltonstall. He also remembered Merriwell"s hand, and he feared the fellow must give out before the finish.
If Yale could hold her own till near the end Collingwood hoped to win by a spurt. Outside of Merriwell, he felt that the crew was in perfect condition. He was sure the men were superior to those in the Harvard boat.
Harvard begins to gain. That strong, steady stroke is telling. It looks as if the crimson lads were going to pull away from the blue with ease.
Collingwood does not allow himself to get excited in the least. He keeps his men steadily at work, husbanding their strength as far as possible.
""Rah! "rah! "rah! Harvard! Harvard!" roared the crowd.
Frank Merriwell was working perfectly with the rest, and no one could imagine from his appearance that every stroke seemed to drive a keen knife from his wrist to his elbow. His face was very pale, but that was all.
At the end of the first mile Harvard was two lengths in advance, and seemed to be gaining. Still Yale worked steadily, showing no signs of excitement or alarm.
The crowds on the yachts were waving hats and handkerchiefs and flags.
They cheered and yelled and hooted like human beings gone mad. It was a scene of the wildest excitement.
It had become plain to all, despite the fact that Harvard had a lead, that the race was to be a stern one. Yale was out to win, if such a thing "lay in the wood."
When the second mile was pa.s.sed Harvard was still another length in advance. But Yale was beginning to work up steadily, forcing Harvard to a more desperate struggle to hold her advantage.
When the two and a half mile flag was pa.s.sed it was seen that Yale had begun to creep up. Still she was not dangerous. Her friends were encouraged, however, and the sound all Yale men love--the Yale yell--could be heard above the roaring of the crowd.
That sound seemed to put fresh life and heart into the Yale crew. At the beginning of the last mile Harvard was scarcely two lengths in advance.
It was a wonderful race. The excitement was at the highest pitch.
The Harvard crew, although it had started out so beautifully, had not the stamina to endure the strain. No. 3 was pulling out of the boat, while No. 5 showed signs of distress.
Yale begins to spurt. Her men are working like machinery. No one could dream that one of them was suffering the tortures of a being on the rack, and still such was the truth.
A hundred times it seemed to Frank Merriwell that he must give out; a hundred times he set his teeth and vowed that he would die before he would weaken. No one could know the almost superhuman courage and fort.i.tude which enabled him to keep up and continue his work in the proper manner. Those who watched the crew closely fancied that he worked with the utmost ease, for all of the long pull.
Collingwood had forgotten Merriwell"s felon. He was reckoning on the final spurt to bring "Old Eli" to the front. Harder and harder he worked his men.
Now the uproar along the river was deafening. The prow of the Yale boat was at Harvard"s stern--and then Yale began to creep along by Harvard"s side.
No. 7 of the Harvard crew reeled on his seat. Then he braced up and went at it again. But he was not in stroke. The faces of both crews were set.
They were like gladiators battling for their very lives.
In the Yale boat was one who seemed to be growing blind and numb. In his heart he was praying for strength as earnestly as he would have prayed for the salvation of his soul. Only a few moments more--he must hold out.