had been looking at it, of a stalwart form in cap
and gown, bounding along, brandishing the long boat-hook, and always
keeping just opposite the boat; and amid all the Babel of voices, and
the dash and pulse of the stroke, and the labouring of his own
breathing, he heard Hardy's voice coming to him again and again, and
clear as if there had been no other sound in the air, "Steady, Two!
steady! well pulled! steady, steady." The voice seemed to give him
strength and keep him to his work. And what work it was! he had had many
a hard pull in the last six weeks, but never aught like this.

But it can't last forever; men's muscles are not steel, or their lungs
bulls' hide, and hearts can't go on pumping a hundred miles an hour
long, without bursting. The St. Ambrose boat is well away from the boat
behind, there is a great gap between the accompanying crowds; and now,
as they near the Gut, she hangs for a moment or two in hand, though the
roar from the bank grows louder and louder, and Tom is already aware
that the St. Ambrose crowd is melting into the one ahead of them.

"We must be close to Exeter!" The thought flashes into him, and, it
would seem, into the rest of the crew at the same moment; for, all at
once, the strain seems taken off their arms again; there is no more
drag; she springs to the stroke as she did at the start; and Miller's
face, which had darkened for a few seconds, lightens up again.

Miller's face and attitude are a study. Coiled up into the smallest
possible space, his chin almost resting on his knees, his hands close to
his sides, firmly but lightly feeling the rudder, as a good horseman
handles the mouth of a free-going hunter; if a coxswain could make a
bump by his own exertions, surely he will do it. No sudden jerks of the
St. Ambrose rudder will you see, watch as you will from the bank; the
boat never hangs through fault of his, but easily and gracefully rounds
every point. "You're gaining! you're gaining!" he now and then mutters
to the captain, who responds with a wink, keeping his breath for other
matters. Isn't he grand, the captain, as he comes forward like
lightning, stroke after stroke, his back flat, his teeth set, his whole
frame working from the hips with the regularity of a machine? As the
space still narrows, the eyes of the fiery little coxswain flash with
excitement, but he is far too good a judge to hurry the final effort
before the victory is safe in his grasp.

The two crowds ar