The long blades flashed in and out of the water quicker and cleaner, cutting down Harvard’s lead, until just as they swept by the Frolic that discouraging discrepancy was closed and the two shell’s noses were even.  Yale had made a gallant spurt.

“Up anchor and after them,” ordered Captain Boynton and the crew sprang to obey orders, eagerness to see the finish lending phenomenal speed to their fingers, and the Frolic was soon in hot pursuit of the shells, Yale now pulling a trifle ahead of her adversary in that last fateful mile.

How those eight bare backs swayed back and forth.  Harvard’s beautiful, long, clean sweep was doing pretty work, but that Siren Yell seemed to have supplied the “ginger” necessary to spur on the Yale men.

“Give ’em another!  Give ’em another!” shouted Captain Stewart, as the Frolic came abreast of the Yale crew, and fairly shaking Captain Harold in his excitement.

“Avast there!  Give way, man!  Do you want to yank me out of my coat?” he laughed.

“I’ll yank somebody out of something if those Yale boys don’t pull a length ahead of those Johnny Harvards,” sputtered Neil Stewart.

“Whoop it up fellows—­and friends.  The four N Yell for old Yale,” bawled Shortie in order to make himself heard above the din and pandemonium of screaming sirens and the yelling, and in spite of it all the Yale crew heard

“N—­n—­n—­n! 
 A—­a—­a—­a! 
 V—­v—­v—­v! 
 Y—­y—­y—­y! 
 Yale!  Yale!  Yale!”

and laid their strength to their sweeps.  Chests were heaving and breath coming in panting gasps, but the coxswain of the Yale crew was abreast of number three in the Harvard shell, and inch by inch the space was lengthening in favor of the blue-tipped blades.

“Yale!  Yale!  Yale!”

yelled the crowd as only such a crowd can yell.  Then clear water showed between the shells and the four-mile flag fluttered like a blur as the Yale crew rushed by it.  Slower plied the blades, shoulders which had swayed backward and forward in such perfect rhythm drooped, and one or two faces, gray from exhaustion, fell forward upon heaving chests.  Then the rowing ceased, the long oars trailed over the water, as Harvard’s crew slid by and came to a standstill.  Friends flocked to the shells to bring them alongside the floats where, nerve-force coming to the rescue of physical exhaustion, the big fellows managed to scramble to the floats and fairly hug each other as they did an elephantine dance in feet from which some stockings were sagging, and some gone altogether.  But who cared whether legs were bare or covered!

The Frolic came boiling up to the float at a rate calculated to smash things to smithereens if she did not slow down at short order, everybody yelling, everybody shouting like bedlamites.

“Best ever!  Best ever!  The Siren started it and the Four N. did the trick!” shouted Captain Stewart, while all the others cheered and congratulated in chorus.