a mortal antipathy-第12章

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The　boats　had　turned　the　stake；　and　were　coming　in　rapidly。　　Every

minute　the　University　boat　was　getting　nearer　the　other。



〃Go　it；　Quins！〃　shouted　the　students。



〃Pull　away；　Lantas！〃　screamed　the　girls；　who　were　crowding　down　to

the　edge　of　the　water。



Nearer；nearer；the　rear　boat　is　pressing　the　other　more　and　more

closely；a　few　more　strokes；　and　they　will　be　even；　for　there　is　but

one　length　between　them；　and　thirty　rods　will　carry　them　to　the　line。

It　looks　desperate　for　the　Atalantas。　　The　bow　oar　of　the　Algonquin

turns　his　head。　　He　sees　the　little　coxswain　leaning　forward　at　every

stroke；　as　if　her　trivial　weight　were　of　such　mighty　consequence；

but　a　few　ounces　might　turn　the　scale　of　victory。　　As　he　turned　he

got　a　glimpse　of　the　stroke　oar　of　the　Atalanta。　　What　a　flash　of

loveliness　it　was！　　Her　face　was　like　the　reddest　of　June　roses；　with

the　heat　and　the　strain　and　the　passion　of　expected　triumph。　　The

upper　button　of　her　close…fitting　flannel　suit　had　strangled　her　as

her　bosom　heaved　with　exertion；　and　it　had　given　way　before　the

fierce　clutch　she　made　at　it。　　The　bow　oar　was　a　staunch　and　steady

rower；　but　he　was　human。　　The　blade　of　his　oar　lingered　in　the　water；

a　little　more　and　he　would　have　caught　a　crab；　and　perhaps　lost　the

race　by　his　momentary　bewilderment。



The　boat；　which　seemed　as　if　it　had　all　the　life　and　nervousness　of　a

Derby　three…year…old；　felt　the　slight　check；　and　all　her　men　bent

more　vigorously　to　their　oars。　　The　Atalantas　saw　the　movement；　and

made　a　spurt　to　keep　their　lead　and　gain　upon　it　if　they　could。　　It

was　of　no　use。　　The　strong　arms　of　the　young　men　were　too　much　for

the　young　maidens；　only　a　few　lengths　remained　to　be　rowed；　and　they

would　certainly　pass　the　Atalanta　before　she　could　reach　the　line。



The　little　coxswain　saw　that　it　was　all　up　with　the　girls'　crew　if

she　could　not　save　them　by　some　strategic　device。



　　　　　〃Dolus　an　virtus　quis　in　hoste　requirat？〃



she　whispered　to　herself；for　The　Terror　remembered　her　Virgil　as

she　did　everything　else　she　ever　studied。　　As　she　stooped；　she　lifted

the　handkerchief　at　her　feet；　and　took　from　it　a　flaming　bouquet。

〃Look！〃　she　cried；　and　flung　it　just　forward　of　the　track　of　the

Algonquin。　　The　captain　of　the　University　boat　turned　his　head；　and

there　was　the　lovely　vision　which　had　a　moment　before　bewitched　him。

The　owner　of　all　that　loveliness　must；　he　thought；　have　flung　the

bouquet。　　It　was　a　challenge：　how　could　he　be　such　a　coward　as　to

decline　accepting　it



He　was　sure　he　could　win　the　race　now；　and　he　would　sweep　past　the

line　in　triumph　with　the　great　bunch　of　flowers　at　the　stem　of　his

boat；　proud　as　Van　Tromp　in　the　British　channel　with　the　broom　at　his

mast…head。



He　turned　the　boat's　head　a　little　by　backing　water。　　He　came　up　with

the　floating　flowers；　and　near　enough　to　reach　them。　　He　stooped　and

snatched　them　up；　with　the　loss　perhaps　of　a　second　in　all；no　more。

He　felt　sure　of　his　victory。



How　can　one　tell　the　story　of　the　finish　in　cold…blooded　preterites？

Are　we　not　there　ourselves？　　Are　not　our　muscles　straining　with　those

of　these　sixteen　young　creatures；　full　of　hot；　fresh　blood；　their

nerves　all　tingling　like　so　many　tight…strained　harp…strings；　all

their　life　concentrating　itself　in　this　passionate　moment　of　supreme

effort？　　No！　　We　are　seeing；　not　telling　about　what　somebody　else

once　saw！



The　bow　of　the　Algonquin　passes　the　stern　of　the　Atalanta！



The　bow　of　the　Algonquin　is　on　a　level　with　the　middle　of　the

Atalanta！



Three　more　lengths'　rowing　and　the　college　crew　will　pass　the

girls！



〃Hurrah　for　the　Quins！〃　The　Algonquin　ranges　up　alongside　of　the

Atalanta！



〃Through　with　her！　　〃shouts　the　captain　of　the　Algonquin。



〃Now；　girls！〃　shrieks　the　captain　of　the　Atalanta。



They　near　the　line；　every　rower　straining　desperately；　almost　madly。



Crack　goes　the　oar　of　the　Atalanta's　captain；　and　up　flash　its

splintered　fragments；　as　the　stem　of　her　boat　springs　past　the　line；

eighteen　inches　at　least　ahead　of　the　Algonquin。



Hooraw　for　the　Lantas！　　Hooraw　for　the　Girls！　　Hooraw　for　the

Institoot！　　shout　a　hundred　voices。



〃Hurrah　for　woman's　rights　and　female　suffrage！〃　pipes　the　small

voice　of　The　Terror；　and　there　is　loud　laughing　and　cheering　all

round。



She　had　not　studied　her　classical　dictionary　and　her　mythology　for

nothing。　　〃I　have　paid　off　one　old　score；〃　she　said。　　〃Set　down　my

damask　roses　against　the　golden　apples　of　Hippomenes！〃



It　was　that　one　second　lost　in　snatching　up　the　bouquet　which　gave

the　race　to　the　Atalantas。









III



THE　WHITE　CANOE。



While　the　two　boats　were　racing；　other　boats　with　lookers…on　in　them

were　rowing　or　sailing　in　the　neighborhood　of　the　race…course。　　The

scene　on　the　water　was　a　gay　one；　for　the　young　people　in　the　boats

were；　many　of　them；　acquainted　with　each　other。　　There　was　a　good

deal　of　lively　talk　until　the　race　became　too　exciting。　　Then　many

fell　silent；　until；　as　the　boats　neared　the　line；　and　still　more　as

they　crossed　it；　the　shouts　burst　forth　which　showed　how　a　cramp　of

attention　finds　its　natural　relief　in　a　fit　of　convulsive

exclamation。



But　far　away；　on　the　other　side　of　the　lake；　a　birchbark　canoe　was　to

be　seen；　in　which　sat　a　young　man；　who　paddled　it　skillfully　and

swiftly。　　It　was　evident　enough　that　he　was　watching　the　race

intently；　but　the　spectators　could　see　little　more　than　that。　　One　of

them；　however；　who　sat　upon　the　stand；　had　a　powerful　spy…glass；　and

could　distinguish　his　motions　very　minutely　and　exactly。　　It　was　seen

by　this　curious　observer　that　the　young　man　had　an　opera…glass　with

him；　which　he　used　a　good　deal　at　intervals。　　The　spectator　thought

he　kept　it　directed　to　the　girls'　boat；　chiefly；　if　not　exclusively。

He　thought　also　that　the　opera…glass　was　more　particularly　pointed

towards　the　bow　of　the　boat；　and　came　to　the　natural　conclusion　that

the　bow　oar；　Miss　Euthymia　Tower；　captain　of　the　Atalantas；　〃The

Wonder〃　of　the　Corinna　Institute；　was　the　attraction　which　determined

the　direction　of　the　instrument。



〃Who　is　that　in　the　canoe　over　there？〃　asked　the　owner　of　the　spy…

glass。



〃That's　just　what　we　should　like　to　know；〃　answered　the　old

landlord's　wife。　　〃He　and　his　man　boarded　with　us　when　they　first

came；　but　we　could　never　find　out　anything　about　him　only　just　his

name　and　his　ways　of　living。　　His　name　is　Kirkwood；　Maurice　Kirkwood；

Esq。；　it　used　to　come　on　his　letters。　　As　for　his　ways　of　living；　he

was　the　solitariest　human　being　that　I　ever　came　across。　　His　man

carried　his　meals　up　to　him。　　He　used　to　stay　in　his　room　pretty　much

all　day；　but　at　night　he　would　be　off；　walking；　or　riding　on

horseback；　or　paddling　about　in　the　lake；　sometimes　till　nigh

morning。　　There's　something　very　strange　about　that　Mr。　Kirkwood。

But　there　don't　seem　to　be　any　harm　in　him。　　Only　nobody　can　guess

what　his　business　is。　　They　got　up　a　story　about　him　at　one　time。

What　do　you　think？　　They　said　he　was　a　counterfeiter！　　And　so　they

went　one　night　to　his　room；　when　he　was　out；　and　that　man　of　his　was

away　too；　and　they　carried　keys；　and　opened　pretty　much　everything；

and　they　foundwell；　they　found　just　nothing　at　all　except　writings

and　letters；letters　from　places　in　America　and　in　England；　and　some

with　Italian　postmarks：　that　was　all。　　Since　that　time　the　sheriff

and　his　folks　have　let　him　alone　and　minded　their　own　business。　　He

was　a　gentleman；anybody　ought　to　have　known　that；　and　anybody　that

knew　about　his　nice　ways　of　living　and　behaving；　and　knew　the　kind　of

wear　he　had　for　his　underclothing；　might　have　known　it。　　I　could　have

told　those　officers　that　they　had　better　not　bother　him。　　I　know　the

ways　of　real　gentlemen　and　real　ladies；　and　I　know　those　fellows　in

store　clothes　that　look　a　little　too　fine；outside。　　Wait　till

washing…day　comes！〃



The　g