“I don’t need any ten dollars to beat him,” said Tony, with a nod at Jim. “He and I aren’t any too friendly and I’d like to wallop him, just for the looks of the thing, to say nothing of helping you out.” “Thanks,” spoke Larry. “I haven’t ten dollars to offer you, but I’ve no doubt Mr. Newton will pay you well if you get me to the telegraph office first.” The race was now on in earnest. The boats were side by side, and not far apart. Both were headed for the hill, on the summit of which could be seen the white tent where the telegraph office was located. Peter had played a trick on Larry, by pretending to be hunting for the place. As a matter of fact he merely had Jim row about until they saw in which direction Larry’s boat went. Then he followed. They were now pretty well clear of the town, and were going over flooded fields. The water was filled with logs and stumps of trees, planks, bits of barnyard wreckage, and occasionally the dead body of a horse or cow. It required careful steerage to avoid hitting these objects, and in consequence the speed was not as great as it might otherwise have been. The two men, who were old-time rivals, bent to the oars until the stout ash handles almost broke. The blades swirled through the water and the bows made ripples and foam as both craft forged ahead. For a while the two boats were almost on even terms. They raced along not ten feet apart, and so nearly alike did Jim and Tony row that it looked as if the two were but one craft. But, little by little Tony began to pull ahead. He put a little more force into his strokes and took longer ones, while Jim was rowing in a rather ragged fashion. Once Jim caught a “crab,” and nearly went overboard. This gave Tony a big advantage, and he got almost a length ahead. However, he lost this lead in a little while, for Larry, by some mischance, hit a log a glancing blow and Tony had to stop rowing in order not to upset. “Be careful,” cautioned Tony. “Another one like that and we’ll lose the race.” “I’ll be careful,” replied Larry, ashamed of his error. Once again the two boats were about in line. The rowers were tiring, however, and could not go so fast. Tony, who was an old hand at the oars, stuck to his task with grim determination, and soon he was half a length ahead of his rival. By this time a crowd of people on the shore, which they were fast approaching, were aware that something unusual was under way. They came down close to the water’s edge to see the outcome of the race. The boats were now a little over a quarter of a mile away from the land. “They’re beating us!” exclaimed Peter, as he saw Larry’s boat pulling steadily ahead. “Can’t you row faster, Jim?” “I’m doing the best I can,” was the reply, but Jim gritted his teeth and tried to get a little more power out of his strokes. It was seemingly useless, however, for Tony with the regularity of clockwork was sending his boat through the water at a good clip.