“Tighten up a little bit, now—–­a little bit at a time,” was the message Pascal gave his followers.

By the time that the home course had been half covered it was noted that the “Slip-over,” as the Trentville craft was named, was creeping up fast on its rival.

Dick, too, quickly became aware of this.

“Trentville is showing a lot of new form, fellows, and coming right up on us,” Dick called quietly.  “This race isn’t won!  The fact, we’re near to losing it.  Form! form! muscle!  Don’t fumble again, Hazelton!  One, two, three, four!”

But still the Trentville High School craft continued to creep up on them.  The Gridley High School girls on shore became so anxious that they forgot to wave their handkerchiefs and cheer.

“More push!  Power, as well as speed,” Dick panted, for now the grueling speed was beginning to tell on even the leader of Dick & Co.

The prow of the “Slip-over” now passed the stern of the “Scalp-hunter.”  Reade saw this, too, and uttered a groan.

From the shore and the boats holding spectators came new volleys of cheers, for most of these spectators were wholly impartial, and wanted only to see an exciting race.

“Let yourself out, Gridley!” boomed a voice over the water.

Dick and Co. were doing their best—–­or what amounted to much the same thing—–­believed that they were, at any rate.

Yet the Trentville canoe crept steadily up, then led by a quarter length, a half length.  It looked as though the Trentville crew would soon be a length ahead of the Gridley boys.

Everyone of Dick’s chums was desperate.  So was Dick himself, but he kept as cool as possible.

“Bring our prow up!” he called steadily.  “No matter what happens, bring our prow up flush with Trentville!”

By some miracle the Gridley boys found strength enough left in their arms and backs to accomplish this feat.

Then the “Scalp-hunter” dropped behind again, an inch at a time.

“We caught ’em once!” called Dick in an even voice.  “We must do it again.  One, two, three, four!  Hump! hump!  Put in the power!”

By inches the “Scalp-hunter” crawled up, but Dick & Co. felt completely exhausted.

“You’ve been doing well, kid,” called the even voice of Ted Pascal over the water, “but you can’t do any more.  We take this race!”

“Do you?” dared Dick.

“Yes; you’re all in, and we have reserve steam left.”

“Have you?” snapped young Prescott.  “Then now is the time to prove it.”

Taking a deep breath, Dick Prescott shouted: 

“Remember what Gridley demands!  No defeats.  Dash ahead, Gridleys!  Now—–­go in and kill yourselves for the honor of your school!”

Dick was far from meaning that literally, but his quick eye had measured the remaining distance of the course.

He was captain enough to know just what each of his men could endure, and for how long they could stand up under it.