“Life is of little use to the vanquished!” Dick shouted on.  “Go in to win—–­kill yourselves!”

At an earlier point on the course it would have been fearfully bad leadership.  It would have resulted in disaster had any of Dick & Co. had any form of serious physical weakness.

But Dick Prescott knew his boys!

“Kill yourselves!” he shouted out again, as he saw the two canoes running neck and neck.  “For the honor of Gridley High School!”

Right noble was the response, though flesh and blood could not stand this new and savage grilling for long.

“Wake up, Trentville!” shouted Ted Pascal, when he saw the “Scalp-hunter” gaining.  “Wake up!  Let out all of your steam!  Push!”

Dick Prescott said no more.  His straining gaze was now fixed on the finish line.  Not one of his chums even glanced at the imaginary line.  All their thoughts, like all their glances, were on their paddles.

“A final dash, now!” called Dick.  “Slam up the pace for Gridley!”

But Trentville was showing its boasted reserve steam.

Close as they now were to the finish, Pascal had no thought of permitting defeat to come to his crew.

No dinning of whistles was there now.  Every spectator waited breathlessly for the outcome that would be reached in the next few seconds.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

Then the end came.

Pascal sank back on his seat with a groan when he had put in the last dip of his paddle that could do any good.

Frantic indeed was the cheering, and now once more came the deafening screech of whistles.

From the judges’ launch, as soon as the din had died down a bit, came the announcement through a megaphone: 

“Gridley High School wins by three quarters of a length.”

Dick heard the news, then ordered quietly: 

“Paddle—–­easily.”

A turn of his own blade swung the prow around so that the “Scalp-hunter” glided in toward the hotel landing float.

To-day he had no jubilant mob of Gridleyites to fear in the excess of their joy.  Only some very gentle friends of their own town came hurrying forward to congratulate them.

But Dr. Bentley gripped Dick’s arm as soon as that young man stepped from the canoe.

“Bring your crew along and follow me, Prescott,” whispered the physician.  “You are a limp-looking lot.  That was a wild, splendid finish, but I fear you may have put it too hard to your crew.  I want to examine you all, to make sure that not too much harm has been done by your desperate ‘kill yourself’ order.”

Dr. Bentley led the way to the boathouse, while a hotel employ took charge of the “Scalp-hunter.”

He listened briefly at each boy’s heart, then made them all sit still for ten minutes.  At the end of that time he examined them again as to heart beat.  Half an hour later he made a third examination.