her hands and colouring high, "would it be very wrong if I was to _pray_
for Oxford to win?"

Mrs. Dodd had a monitory finger; it was on her left hand; she raised it;
and that moment, as if she had given a signal, the boats, fore-shortened
no longer, shot out to treble the length they had looked hitherto, and
came broadside past our palpitating fair, the elastic rowers stretched
like greyhounds in a chase, darting forward at each stroke so boldly they
seemed flying out of the boats, and surging back as superbly, an
eightfold human wave: their nostrils all open, the lips of some pale and
glutinous their white teeth all clenched grimly, their young eyes all
glowing, their supple bodies swelling, the muscles writhing beneath their
jerseys, and the sinews starting on each bare brown arm; their little
shrill coxswains shouting imperiously at the young giants, and working to
and fro with them, like jockeys at a finish; nine souls and bodies flung
whole into each magnificent effort; water foaming and flying, rowlocks
ringing, crowd running, tumbling, and howling like mad; and Cambridge a
boat's nose ahead.

They had scarcely passed our two spectators, when Oxford put on a furious
spurt, and got fully even with the leading boat. There was a louder roar
than ever from the bank. Cambridge spurted desperately in turn, and stole
those few feet back; and so they went fighting every inch of water. Bang!
A cannon on the bank sent its smoke over both competitors; it dispersed
in a moment, and the boats were seen pulling slowly towards the
bridge--Cambridge with four oars, Oxford with six, as if that gum had
winged them both.

The race was over.