"Saint Eustace! Saint Eustace! Saint Eustace!" "Hillton! Hillton! Hillton!" Then the cheering grew louder and more frenzied as, boat to boat, the rival eights passed the half-mile buoy, swinging along with no perceptible effort over the blue, dancing water.
"Anybody's race," said Outfield West, as he lowered his glasses.

"But Hillton's got the outside course on the turn." The turn was no more than a slight divergence from the straight line at the one-mile mark, but it might mean from a half to three quarters of a length to the outside boat should they maintain their present relative positions.

For the next half mile the same moderate strokes were used until the half-course buoy was almost reached, when Hillton struck up to thirty-two and then to thirty-four, and St.Eustace increased her stroke to the latter number.
It was a race for the position nearest the buoy, and St.Eustace won it, Hillton falling back a half length as the course was changed.

Then the strokes in both boats went back to thirty-two, Hillton seemingly willing to keep in the rear.

On and on they came, the oars taking the water in unison, and shining like silver when the sun caught the wet blades.