So it was; certain of the cadets, being piqued at the evident superiority which that B. J. Mallory (his usual title by this time) had displayed in the water, had requested their captain to take him down. The "captain" had good-naturedly declared that he was willing to try; and the shout that attracted Bull's attention was caused by the plebe's ready assent to the proposition for an impromptu race.  
"Fischer ought to be ashamed of himself, to have anything to do with him!" was Bull Harris' angry verdict. "I almost hope the plebe beats him."
 
"I don't!" vowed Murray, emphatically. "Let's hurry up, and see it."
 
The latter speaker suited the action to the word; Bull followed, growling surlily.
 
"Look at that gang of plebes!" he muttered. "They're the ones who helped Mallory take away the fellow we were hazing; they think they're right in it, now."
 
[Pg 212]"Yes," chimed in Baby. "And see that fellow, Texas, making a fool of himself."
 
"That fellow Texas" was "making a fool of himself" by dancing about in wild excitement, and raising a series of cowboy whoops in behalf of his friend, and of plebes in general.
 
"There they are, ready to go!" cried Murray, betraying some excitement.
 
"I wish the confounded plebe'd never come up again!" growled Bull, in return, striving hard to appear indifferent.
 
"I bet Fischer'll do him!" exclaimed the Baby. "He swims like a fish. Say, they're going to race to that tree way down the river. Golly, but that's a long swim!"
 
"Long nothing!" sneered Vance. "I could swim that a dozen times. But, say, they'll finish in the rain; look at that thunderstorm coming!"
 
In response to this last remark, the crowd cast their eyes in the direction indicated. They found that the prediction seemed likely to be fulfilled. To the north, up the Hudson, dense, black clouds already obscured the sky, and a strong, fresh breeze, that smelled of rain, was[Pg 213] springing up from thence, and making the swimmers shiver apprehensively.
 
The preparation for the race went on, however; nobody cared for the storm.
 
"Gee whiz!" cried the Baby, in excitement. "Won't it be exciting! I don't mind the rain. I'm going to run down along the shore, and watch it! Hooray!"
 
"Rats!" growled Bull, angrily. "I don't care about any old race. I'm going to keep dry, let me tell you!"
 
Even the damper of his idol's displeasure could not change Master Edwards' mind, however; he and nearly the whole crowd with him made a dash down the shore for a vantage point to see the finish.
 
"There! They're off!"
 
The cry came a moment later, as the two lightly-clad figures stepped to the mark from which they were to start.
 
They were about of one size, magnificently proportioned, both of them, and the race bid fair to be a close one.
 
"Ready?" called the starter, in a voice that rang down the shore.
 
"Yes," responded Mark, and at the same moment a heavy cloud swept under the sun, and the air grew dark[Pg 214] and chilly. The wind increased to a gale, blowing the spray before it; and then——
 
"Go!" called the starter.
 
The two dived as one figure; both took the water clean and low, with no perceptible splash; two heads appeared a moment later, forging ahead side by side; a cheer from the cadets arose, that drowned, for a moment, the roars of the storm; and the race was on.
 
It is remarkable how closely nature follows a rule in her most perfect work; here were two figures, built by her a thousand miles apart, racing there, and each striving with might and main, yet the sum total of the energy that each was able to expend so nearly alike that yard by yard they struggled on, without an inch of difference between them.
 
"Fischer! Fischer!" ............