Over on the shore, the group by the landing had broken up. Its members were sprinting along the edge of the lake, waving whatever they could find to wave, shouting at the top of their lungs. Not all of them, though, for a handfull elected to see the finish from the landing, and among these were Tom and Clif and, of necessity, Loring. They had a clear view, but the angle kept them in uncertainty of the boats’ relative positions. Once it seemed that Wyndham had put a half-length between her and her rival, but a moment later they concluded that the boats were still practically side by side. The distance was a mile and a half, and at the mile flag both crews began to show the strain. Wyndham was splashing a good deal, and Number 6 in the Highland boat was rowing late and short. The Dark Blue hit up the stroke to thirty, to thirty-four, and seemed to gain for a time, but the Blue-and-White answered the challenge and eventually evened matters again. After that, to the watchers by the landing, it was anybody’s race right to the finish. They saw Wyndham pulling fast and hard and raggedly, Highland desperately rowing a stroke of thirty-six or better. Saw the boats shoot in front of the farther flag, saw the oars trail and tired forms in each shell slump in their places, saw the following launches slow and turn; and still they were in doubt. It was not until the Wyndham launch had started back that Clif uttered a yell of triumph. “We won!” he shouted. “We won! Look at those fellows!” “Those fellows,” by which Clif meant the launch’s occupants, were, indeed, acting very much as though pleased at the result. One or two, Mr. McKnight and Weldon, manager and first class member, perhaps, were behaving decorously enough, but there were at least six others there and these latter were performing antics that threatened to take them overboard! “My Sainted Aunt Jerusha!” howled Tom. “We sure did! We beat ’em, Loring! What do you know about that? Are we the eel’s whiskers or aren’t we? I’ll say we are! I’ll tell the world――” “Shut up!” some one begged. “They’re trying to tell us!” A blue megaphone was pointing their way from the bow of the approaching launch. “Wyndham won,” came the hoarse bellow. “By about a third of a length! A-a-ay!” “A-a-ay yourself!” yelled Tom. “Wait till you see what happens to ’em in the next race!”