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 sophomores 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 passed 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 passed 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.