"Wake up, Trentville!" shouted Ted Pascal, when he saw the
"Scalp-hunter" gaining. "Wake up! Let out all of your steam!
Push!"
Dick Prescott said no more. His straining gaze was now fixed
on the finish line. Not one of his chums even glanced at the
imaginary line. All their thoughts, like all their glances, were
on their paddles.
"A final dash, now!" called Dick. "Slam up the pace for Gridley!"
But Trentville was showing its boasted reserve steam.
Close as they now were to the finish, Pascal had no thought of
permitting defeat to come to his crew.
No dinning of whistles was there now. Every spectator waited
breathlessly for the outcome that would be reached in the next
few seconds.
CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION
Then the end came.
Pascal sank back on his seat with a groan when he had put in the
last dip of his paddle that could do any good.
Frantic indeed was the cheering, and now once more came the deafening
screech of whistles.
From the judges' launch, as soon as the din had died down a bit,
came the announcement through a megaphone:
"Gridley High School wins by three quarters of a length."
Dick heard the news, then ordered quietly:
"Paddle---easily."
A turn of his own blade swung the prow around so that the "Scalp-hunter"
glided in toward the hotel landing float.
To-day he had no jubilant mob of Gridleyites to fear in the excess
of their joy.
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