_ CHAPTER XXIII. WHO WON THE SWIMMING MATCHES?
Thanks to Len Spencer's interest in schoolboy athletics, there was a goodly crowd gathered at the river bank the next afternoon. Many people came out in boats. There were at least a dozen launches, including the one that bore Len Spencer, who had been chosen to conduct the races.
The owner of a two room boathouse which adjoined a long wharf had yielded to Spencer's request for a loan of this property. In the boathouse the two school teams disrobed and donned their bathing suits.
Dave Darrin had been called upon to captain the swimming squad from the Central Grammar. With him were Tom, Greg, Dan, Harry, Henderson and Ross. It was as good and representative a team as Central Grammar could furnish.
Bill Rodgers captained the squad from North Grammar. Bill had had his fellows three times in the water, and was proud of them.
Just ten minutes before the time for calling the contestants Dave Darrin led his squad from the boathouse. Out along the pier they ran and dived in.
"The water's just fine for swimming to-day," ecstatically remarked Tom Reade, as he came up, blew the water from his mouth and took a few strokes. "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. "There, the fellows are piling on the raft."
From the distance the spectators could see the two swimming teams lining up on the raft. They could also make out that Len Spencer was addressing the boys from the raft.
Bang! It was the warning shot. Spectators along the Gridley shore crowded close to the bank to get a better view.
Bang! At the second shot fourteen boys dived into the water almost in the same second. Fourteen heads came up, one after another, and the young swimmers settled down to their work. A launch followed along on each side of the course, to pick up any who needed help.
"It was thoughtful of some one to provide launches for the Central swimmers," leered Martin.
"I hope neither launch will be needed for any of our fellows," Dick responded. "If either school has to have a fellow picked up, then of course that's the school which loses the race."
Hi didn't answer. Despite his confident brag, he was now very anxious over the outcome.
Along came the swimmers, all doing well, making a fine showing for a crowd of fourteen boys whose average age was only fourteen years.
From time to time spectators cheered favorite boys in either squad.
"Central wins!" yelled one enthusiast, as the swimmers neared the stakeboat off the pier.
"Don't you believe it," yelled another. "Wait for the finish."
There wasn't long to wait. As the swimmers came nearer it was seen that Dave Darrin was ahead of all the swimmers, though Tom Reade was pressing him hard. Behind Tom came Bill Rodgers, then Greg Holmes, next two more North Grammar boys. Dan was next, with Harry following. The three tailenders were North Grammar boys.
"Central Grammar wins handily," announced Len Spencer through a megaphone.
Hi Martin's face darkened. "Anyway, I'll have the satisfaction of showing Dick Prescott my heels all the way up the course," he grunted.
"Now, you two individual racers tumble aboard, and get ready for your work," warned Len, as the launch ran in alongside the pier.
"Wipe him up, Dick!"
"Don't show him any mercy, Hi!"
Various other comments wafted to the pair as they sat in the launch facing each other.
"Some of those people must think we can both win," laughed Dick good-humoredly.
"I'll soon show you that only one of us can win," retorted Hi almost savagely.
Arrived at the raft, Len Spencer spoke briefly:
"At the first shot of the pistol you two youngsters take up your positions, ready to dive. At the second shot, or as soon after as you wish, you may dive and begin the race. Either contestant who dives before the second shot is heard will be disqualified and then the race will go to the other contestant."
Dick waited, tingling with the desire to win, though he knew that Martin was a splendid swimmer for his age.
"Are you ready?" asked Len in a low voice. Both boys nodded.
Bang! Len fired a revolver into the air, calling the attention of all spectators. Dick and Hi stepped nimbly to the edge of the raft, poising with hands pointed.
Bang! The splash was simultaneous as the swimmers struck the water. Each swimmer made a shallow dive and came up. Hi at once dropped into an overhead stroke, Dick relying upon a side stroke.
For the first seventy-five yards, as nearly as the onlookers could judge, the boys swam nose and nose.
"I'll tire this fellow out with a good pace, and then take a better one," thought Hi Martin. "I'm going to make a finish that will stop Dick Prescott from bragging whenever he sees me around hereafter."
Dick still swam well, but gradually Martin stole ahead of him.
"Where's Prescott now?" jeered a dozen North Grammar boys.
"Centrals, send out a launch to tow your champ! Then maybe he'll make better time."
Hi swam steadily and rapidly until he had more than half covered the course. Then he ventured on a look behind him.
"Prescott won't catch up all day," grinned Hi to himself. "Oh, I'm glad I insisted on this individual race!"
Gradually, and, to those on shore it seemed painfully, Dick gained on the leader. Still, when the race was almost over, Hi was well in the lead.
"Hi Martin! Hi Hi Hi!" yelled the North Grammar boys, dancing and tossing their caps in their glee. "Prescott, where art thou? Say, what did you try to get into the race for?"
"Now, I'll show the folks a few things," Hi resolved, putting on the best spurts of speed that were in him. It was truly a fine performance for a Grammar School boy.
Yet, to the amazement of most of the onlookers, Dick also was doing some very speedy swimming now. A yard he gained on Martin, then another and another. When they were still fifty yards from the stakeboat Dick suddenly changed his stroke and surged ahead, distinctly in the lead.
"Confound the human steam launch!" gasped Hi, almost choking, as he saw the powerful strokes of the swimmer ahead. "He'll make me look like a fool if I don't haul up on him---and the distance left is so confoundedly short!"
Now it could be seen that Martin was exerting every ounce of energy and strength that he possessed. Yet still young Prescott gained.
Then Martin foolishly lost his head altogether.
"If I can't win I'll make it look like a fluke!" he gritted.
Just as Dick was nearing the stakeboat, Hi threw up one hand.
"I've got a cramp!" he shouted. "Help!"
To some on shore he appeared about to sink. Dick passed the stakeboat, then turned like a flash and swam back toward Hi.
"Prescott wins!" called Len Spencer.
A few more strokes brought Dick up to where Hi pretended to flounder.
"Keep quiet, Hi, and let me get a hold on you," Dick offered. "I'll have you at the pier in a jiffy."
"You get away from me," snarled Martin. "I don't want any of your kind of help."
With that Hi appeared to forget his recent complaint of "cramp," for he made a lusty plunge toward the pier and pulled himself up.
Then, an instant later, he must have remembered, for he assumed an expression of pain and limped.
"There's that mean cramp again," he muttered. "I'd have won by a good many yards if it hadn't been for that."
Some of the Central Grammar boys nearby were impolite enough to laugh incredulously.
"Oh, I've dropped my handbag into the river!" exclaimed one woman to another suddenly, at the end of the pier.
The other woman turned, giving a quick, startled glance toward the water.
"I---I don't know how it happened," gasped the loser. "There it is, away down the stream, floating toward that boathouse. Oh, Master Prescott, do you feel able to go and get it for me?"
"I'll do it with pleasure, madam," Dick nodded. He looked for a moment. Then, seeing a black floating object, he started after it, his stroke apparently none the weaker after his swift race.
It had floated nearly under the boathouse at the water end. The building in question belonged to the estate next to that from which the swimming contests had been conducted. This boathouse was closed, for the owners had not yet come to Gridley for the summer. The windows of the little green building were shuttered from the inside. Over the water the walls came down to within six inches of the present level of water.
Keeping his eyes turned toward the black, floating object, Dick swam easily to the spot. The black object floated under the open sidewall into the boathouse. Just as Dick got there he dived, duck fashion, head first, and passed to the interior of the boathouse at the river end.
As he came up inside Dick's first discovery was that of artificial light in the boathouse. Then his gaze rested on the platform end over the land.
"Amos Garwood here, of all places!" gasped the astonished Grammar School boy. _