"In fact, the water's too fine."
"Too fine?" queried Dave. "How so?"
"Why, it makes a fellow feel so fine," retorted Tom, "that I'm
afraid it will make us all winners, and then there won't be any
glory for either school."
The North Grammar boys now splashed in. Len Spencer, who had
just seen to the placing of the further stake boat, now returned
in the launch.
Both the squad race and the individual contest were to be for
a quarter of a mile straightaway, with the start from a moored
raft down the river.
"Every one pile aboard!" called Len, the launch that he was on
gliding in at the pier. Wet swimmers dropped into the launch
until it was filled. Then another small gasoline craft took aboard
the left-overs. The crowd preferred to remain at this end of
the course to see the finish.
"It won't take North Grammar long to wind your crowd up in the
water," declared Hi Martin, as he and Dick stood at the end of
the pier watching the departure. Both were already in their bathing
costumes.
"Maybe not," Dick assented. "Yet you mustn't forget one fact,
Hi."
"What is that?"
"You mustn't forget that our fellows have already got their winning
gait on this season."
"Humph! We'll see."
"It won't take us long, either," Dick continued.
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