The Greenville man paddled in a style that was the poetry of motion, and sent his canoe darting along without any apparent trouble. There seemed every reason why he should be regarded as an almost certain victor. Welch showed his skill, and he did not let the man from Greenville gain an inch on him. Early in the race he regarded that man as his only dangerous rival; but there was to come a time before long when he would see there were others in the race. Frank saw, at the very outset, that Diamond had allowed his anger to get the better of his judgment, and he felt that the Virginian could not hold out as he had started. When half of the course had been covered three of the contestants were falling behind. Diamond still held the lead, but now Welch began to press him, with the Greenville man hot after Welch. Merriwell was fourth, although but slightly in advance of Hodge. Suddenly Frank was surprised to discover that Bart was at his side—was passing him. Hodge was putting in his best work at that point, and the way he forged ahead brought faint cheers from the shore. He overtook the Greenville man, passed him, and then he and Welch raced for the lead. Diamond began to fail. He had started out too hard, and the strain was beginning to tell on him. He held the lead as long as possible, but Welch and Hodge finally passed him. Then he dropped behind the man from Greenville. Jack found Merriwell at his side. “Get into it, Frank!” he panted. “I’m out! Can’t keep it up! Push them, Merry!” “It’s time,” were the only words that came from Frank. Steadily and surely he crept up on those in advance. He passed the man from the Lake region, and then the only ones ahead of him were Hodge and Welch. The end of the race was near, and Welch was leading Bart by nearly half a length. It looked as if he was a sure winner. But now Merriwell came up with amazing speed. Soon he was pressing those in advance, and still he continued to gain, although both Welch and Hodge seemed straining every nerve. For one moment Welch glanced over his shoulder. He saw Merriwell coming, with the Greenville man working like a Trojan to hold close to him. At that moment Jim Welch began to realize that Merriwell stood a good chance of winning. Welch knew that he was doing his level best, and yet Frank was gaining. Anger flamed in the fellow’s heart. “He shan’t win!” he grated. He made a final spurt that carried him ahead of Hodge, but still Merriwell came on. Welch saw that Frank must pass him just before the end of the course was reached. A determination seized upon him. He would foul Merriwell. Hodge was behind and would be stopped by them. That would give the race to the man from Greenville. Having decided on this treacherous course, Welch was not long in putting the plan into operation. Frank was passing when, with a sharp swoop of the paddle, Welch whirled his canoe to cut Merriwell off.