Frank Merriwell's Races Part 31

The boats were side by side, and the excitement was simply indescribable. Such a finish was unprecedented. It was a race to be remembered for all years to come--to be spoken of with pride and discussed with wonder.

Then came the moment when Collingwood drove his men for all there was in them. He was pitiless, and Yale shot into the lead.

The line was crossed. Then cannons boomed and whistles shrieked. But in the Yale boat was one whose ears were deaf to all this tumult of sound.

Frank Merriwell had fallen in the bottom of the boat in a dead faint.

But Yale--Yale had won!

CHAPTER XVIII.

AFTER THE BOAT RACE.

"Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!

Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!

O--up! O--up!

Paraboleau!

Yale! Yale! Yale!

'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!

Yale!!!"

Imagine a thousand, full-lunged, hearty, healthy American lads shouting this cry in unison! It was a sound never to be forgotten by those who heard it. The victorious blue fluttered everywhere.

Harvard had made a gallant fight, and it had been "n.o.body's race" almost to the finish. The Yale crew proved superior, but it won purely by brawn and stamina. Old oars confessed that up to the last half mile Harvard had shown better coaching and had seemed to establish the superiority of the Oxford oar and stroke over American methods.

But "Old Eli" had seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace to be vanquished by anything about which there was an English flavor. The spirit of Bunker Hill and '76 was aroused, and the defenders of the blue were willing to die in the struggle if such a sacrifice could bring victory.

It was not the first time that pure grit had won against odds.

As the Yale boat crossed the line Frank lay, deaf to all the tumult of applause, his eyes closed, but still with his pale face set in a look of mingled pain and unyielding determination.

"It's Merriwell!" exclaimed Bob Collingwood. "I had forgotten him."

His words were drowned by the roaring of the excited thousands and the shrieking of the whistles.

The prow of the Yale boat was turned toward the bank. It was necessary to avoid the craft that came rushing about on every side, but the sh.o.r.e was soon reached.

"Hold her steady!" cried Collingwood. "Somebody dash water into Merriwell's face."

The command was obeyed, and in a moment Frank opened his eyes. It was at the moment when the Yale cheer was pealing from a thousand throats, and the look of pain on Merriwell's face changed to one of satisfaction and joy.

"Did we win?" he huskily asked.

Collingwood nodded, his flushed face beaming, pride in his big blue eyes.

"You bet!" he answered. "It's hard to beat Old Eli!"

"I am satisfied!" gasped Merriwell.

His eyes drooped, and he seemed on the verge of going off into another swoon.

"Throw more water on him," pitilessly directed Collingwood.

It was done, and Frank started up, gasping.

"Here--here!" exclaimed a man on the bank; "give him a pull at this. It will fix him all right."

He stooped down and held out a flask.

"What is it?" asked Frank.

"It's the best brandy money can buy," was the answer.

It was pa.s.sed to Frank, but he pushed it away, shaking his head.

"I never touch liquor," he declared. "I do not want it."

"But it will not hurt you now--it will do you good," declared the man who owned the flask.

"I can get along without it."

"But I shall be offended if you do not take it."

Frank looked sharply at the man. He saw a suntanned individual, who wore a wide-brimmed hat and was dressed in clothes which were worn and appeared to have been made for service rather than for fit and elegance.

There was something piercing about the man's dark eyes, and something about the beardless face that impressed it upon the boy's memory. There was a small purple scar on the man's chin, and Frank noted this, although he might have overlooked it easily in that hasty glance.

"Then you will have to be offended, sir," said Frank, firmly. "I do not wish to appear rude, but I never drink under any circ.u.mstances, and I will not begin now."

The man drew back after the flask was returned to him. The last look he gave the boy was peculiar, as Frank could not tell whether it was one of satisfaction or anger.

In a moment this man was forgotten. The boat slipped out to the _Clyde_, the little steam yacht that was to take the victorious crew back to quarters. The exhausted rowers were lifted on board amid renewed cheering, and the trip up the river began.

It was a triumphant procession. All along the line the _Clyde_, which was decorated with blue, was received with cheers and shrieking whistles. Men waved hats and flags, pretty girls fluttered handkerchiefs and pennants, squads of students gave the Yale cheer at intervals, and two scores of boats, crowded with students and friends, accompanied the boat that carried the victorious crew. The jubilant Yale men sang songs of victory and cheered till their throats ached and they were hoa.r.s.e.

On board the _Clyde_ were Jack Diamond and Harry Rattleton. When Merriwell was lifted to the deck he found himself clasped in Harry's arms, and the dear fellow laughed and cried as he hugged his roommate to his breast.

"I never dought you'd threw it--I mean I never thought you'd do it!"

cried Harry, brokenly. "I thought that hand would knock you out sure.

How could you do it, Merry, old boy? It must have been awful! I saw you keel over when the line was crossed, but you never havered a ware--wavered a hair till the race was over."

Frank smiled a bit.

"A fellow can do almost anything if he sets his determination on it," he said. "But I came near not having the opportunity to try."