“I don’t believe anyone of you has sustained any lasting injury,” said Dr. Bentley at last.  “But, Prescott, don’t you ever dare give a ‘kill yourself’ order again.  That is my order, and an emphatic one.  You may recall that I happen to be medical director of the Gridley High School Athletic Association.  If you youngsters ever try a pace like that again, then undoubtedly you will all be disqualified from future athletic events.  Don’t forget.”

After that lecture Dick & Co. were allowed to sponge with hot water, rub down and put on ordinary clothing.  Then they went forth to meet their friends.

Ted Pascal, however, was the first to rush forward.  He had been waiting for their appearance.

“Prescott, you’re a great fellow as a crew captain!” the big chief of the Trentvilles declared.  “I was sure we had you beaten, and even now I can’t imagine how you left us to the rear.  But it was a great race, and I congratulate you!”

“And we all thank you for your good will,” Dick answered promptly.  “Truth to tell, Pascal, I thought, too, that you almost had us beaten.”

“Almost?” echoed Ted.  “Why not wholly?”

“Because Gridley is never quite beaten.  It’s our way, you know—–­one that was adopted by a past generation of Gridley boys and has been lived up to ever since.”

“I’ve heard a lot about that ‘Gridley way,’” laughed Ted Pascal, “but to-day was the first time that I’ve ever had it played on me.”

“Do you play football?” asked Dick.

“No.”

“Baseball?”

“I tried, but couldn’t make the nine,” Pascal confessed.

“Then I don’t know that you’re likely to have the ‘Gridley’ way played upon you again not unless you meet some of our girls in a tennis game.”

The two crews mingled, passing some ten minutes in talk and in good-humored chaff.  But at last Dick broke away and drew out from the canoe talk as he saw Laura, Belle, Susie and the other girls awaiting them at a point farther up in the hotel grounds.

“I know the girls have been waiting to speak to us,” Dick told his chums, “and they’ve been mighty kind to us.  Come along.”

“We thought you would never get around to talking with poor mortals like us,” Laura admitted, as the boys joined the high school girls.

“It was mainly your father’s fault,” Dick laughingly, protested.

“How was that?”

“You’ll have to ask him.  Perhaps we’re not at liberty to reveal what the Athletic Association’s medical director had to say to us.”

“Especially when it’s in the nature of a ‘roast,’” added Danny Grin.

“If my father was severe with any of you I am certain that he had good reason,” replied Laura gravely, though her eyes twinkled.  “But what a splendid race you made against Trentville and at one time we felt sure that you were beaten.”

“We all felt the same way at one time,” Tom Reade interjected.