The cox was talking again now; what was it he said? Water? Cox wanted water; surely some one could get him water? But he had said Five, hadn’t he? Well, he wasn’t Five, and so---- What was this? He was wet! Oh, yes, Five was splashing him desperately with water. He wondered why and wished he’d stop; it got into his eyes and mouth and bothered him. “Four, brace up, can’t you? It’s almost over!” pleaded cox from a great distance. What was almost over? Trevor opened his eyes and drew his white, dripping forehead into a puzzled frown. Oh, yes, the race! His mind and vision cleared, and he saw things as they were; saw Keene’s eyes looking at him despairingly, saw the cox of the St. Eustace boat slide by him and disappear; saw the one mile buoy rush astern; saw himself, huddled over his motionless oar that dragged, splashing, on the surface. His brain was once more clear. He seized the oar handle, and tried to draw it to him. It was no use. He tried to explain it all to Keene in one long, agonized look. Then he saw the only way by which he could aid, and summoning a semblance of strength, with a deep breath, he reached out, and with trembling, nerveless fingers unlocked his oar and dropped it aside. It was lost to sight on the instant. [Illustration: The only way by which he could aid.] “_Careful, Four!_” warned the cox. Trevor steadied himself with a hand on the gunwale, brought his reluctant body half erect, and then flung himself over the side. He heard the coxswain’s voice for an instant: “_Mind oars, Five and Seven!_” Then the waters closed over his head. CHAPTER XXVII AT THE FINISH “Bow side, raise your hands!” yelled the cox. “Get her level! Six, throw more weight out-board. That’s better! Now hard, all! We can do it yet!” Dick, with dismay at heart, had seen the rival boat creep up and pass them, and had listened despairingly to cox’s words: “Four’s given out!” Then came the command to Five to throw water over Trevor. Dick, not daring to turn his head for an instant, rowed on desperately, watching Keene’s face for any glimmer of hope that might show thereon. “No use,” said cox presently in low tones. “He’s a goner! His oar’s trailing. Hello! Easy now!” Dick saw the light of hope creep into the other’s eyes. “Mind oars, Five and Seven! Four’s gone over the side!” And then Dick caught sight of a brown arm gleaming just under the surface, and as he once more took up the stroke, far astern a dripping head emerged, was visible for a moment, and again disappeared under the dancing wavelets. Dick closed his eyes, an awful horror gripping him. Trevor had gone down! “Careful, Stroke! Take your time!” cautioned Keene.