One of these chanced to be a sixth-form boy and the other a fifth, and a sudden impulse seized us of the latter class to cheer our man vehemently, and back him to be the first to reach home.

The sixth-form fellows, thus challenged, became equally excited in backing _their_ man, and so, without premeditation, a regular match was made.

The two swimmers, hearing our shouts, entered into the spirit of the thing, and a desperate race ensued.

They came on, neck and neck, towards us, cheered like mad by their respective supporters, both sides deeming the honour of his form at stake in the event.

Within a yard or two of the finish they were still level, when the sixth-form man put on a terrific spurt, to our huge disgust, and just landed himself in a nose ahead.
Of course, we were not going to be beaten thus, and there and then demanded our revenge.