Then
Tom came up on Gray's heels.
"Hurrah for Tom Rover!"
"Go it, Tom, don't let him beat you!"
"Go it Gray, Tom Rover is at your heels!"
Gray did not dare to look back, but at the latter cry he did his best to
increase his speed. So did Tom, and while the finishing line was still a
hundred yards distant he came up side by side with Gray.
"It's a tie!"
"No, Gray is a little ahead yet!"
"Go in, Gray, don't let him beat you!"
"Tom Rover to the front! Go it, Tom, for the glory of old Putnam Hall!"
A wild yelling broke out on every side. On and on went the two boys,
with Fred Garrison not two yards behind them. That the finish would be a
close one there was no question. The line was but a hundred feet away;
now but seventy-five; now but fifty. Still the leaders kept side by
side, neither gaining an inch. Surely it would be a tie. The yelling
increased until the noise was deafening.
And then of a sudden Tom Rover shot ahead. How it was done nobody knew,
and Tom himself couldn't explain it when asked afterward.
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