steadily the
Atalanta came on!---no rocking, no splashing, no apparent strain; the
bow oar turning to look ahead every now and then, and watching her
course, which seemed to be straight as an arrow, the beat of the strokes
as true and regular as the pulse of the healthiest rower among them
all. And if the sight of the other boat and its crew was beautiful, how
lovely was the look of this! Eight young girls,--young ladies, for those
who prefer that more dignified and less attractive expression,--all
in the flush of youth, all in vigorous health; every muscle taught its
duty; each rower alert, not to be a tenth of a second out of time,
or let her oar dally with the water so as to lose an ounce of its
propelling virtue; every eye kindling with the hope of victory. Each
of the boats was cheered as it came in sight, but the cheers for the
Atalanta were naturally the loudest, as the gallantry of one sex and the
clear, high voices of the other gave it life and vigor.

"Take your places!" shouted the umpire, five minutes before the half
hour. The two boats felt their way slowly and cautiously to their
positions, which had been determined by careful measurement. After a
little backing and filling they got into line, at the proper distance
from each other, and sat motionless, their bodies bent forward, their
arms outstretched, their oars in the water, waiting for the word.

"Go!" shouted the umpire.

Away sprang the Atalanta, and far behind her leaped the Algonquin,
her oars bending like so many long Indian bows as their blades flashed
through the water.

"A stern chase is a long chase," especially when one craft is a great
distance behind the other. It looked as if it would be impossible for
the rear boat to overcome the odds against it. Of course the Algonquin
kept gaining, but could it possibly gain enough? That was the question.
As the boats got farther and farther away, it became more and more
difficult to determine what change there was in the interval between
them. But when they came to rounding the stake it was easier to guess at
the amount of space which had been gained. It was clear that something
like half the distance, four lengths, as nearly as could be estimated,
had been made up in rowing the first three quarters of a mile. Could
the Algonquins do a little better than this in the second half of the
race-course, they would be sure of winning.

The boats had turned the stake, and were coming in rapidly. Every mi