Tired as he was John realized that this was strange proceeding. He tried
to pull himself up on the dock, but he was too weak and slipped back
into the water.
"Grant," he called, "give me a lift."
"Come ahead," cried Grant, bending over and extending his hand to John.
With this help the tired boy lifted himself out of the water and sank
down on the dock almost completely exhausted. He lay flat on his back,
his eyes closed.
"Where's Hugh?" he panted. "Did I beat him?"
There was no answer.
"Grant," said John. "Did I beat Hugh?"
Still no reply, and he opened his eyes to see what the reason for the
silence was. He slowly raised himself to one elbow and looked about him.
Black spots danced before his eyes and at first he saw nothing; then his
eyes suddenly became accustomed to the surroundings and he gasped. For
the moment he had forgotten that he had seen Mr. Maxwell jump into the
water but he remembered it now and he saw the reason for it.
Grant had finished the race and not greatly tired had been standing
alongside Mr. Maxwell watching the others approach. The race between
John and Hugh was what interested them most for they saw that Thomas
would finish an easy second and so the final outcome of the meet
depended on these two.
"A pretty tight race," remarked Grant.
"I should--" began Mr. Maxwell when he suddenly stopped and stared.
John had just turned over on his stomach again for the final dash. Hugh
was at his shoulder and the onlookers were enjoying the close finish.
Suddenly, however, Hugh disappeared from sight. He simply sank beneath
the water with no warning whatsoever and John reached the dock alone.
"He's exhausted," cried Mr. Maxwell, and without waiting an instant he
dived into the water, fully clothed as he was, to rescue his nephew.
When John opened his eyes he saw Mr. Maxwell in the water, swimming for
the dock with one hand and holding Hugh by the hair of his head with the
other.
"What's the trouble, Grant?" demanded John.
"Hugh sank."
"What was the matter with him?"
"He was tired out, I guess. Here, let me have him now," he said to Mr.
Maxwell and leaning out from the dock he seized Hugh by the arms. His
uncle gave the half-drowned boy a boost and he was soon stretched out at
full length on the little wharf.
"That was a close call," exclaimed Mr. Maxwell grimly as he clambered
out after him. "It's a lucky thing he was so near the dock. Where are
the rest of the boys?"
"Here are two of them," said Grant as Franklin and Herbert swam
leisurely up to the dock. Seeing that they were hopelessly beaten they
had not exerted themselves the last seventy-five yards of the race.
"Where are the other two?" exclaimed John anxiously. He had recovered
most of his breath and strength now and not seeing George or Fred was
fearful lest the fate that Hugh had so narrowly escaped had befallen
them.
"Turn around and you'll see."
George and Fred came walking towards the dock.
"Where did you two come from?" demanded John in surprise. "The last I
saw of you was when we all dived off that rock together. How did you get
up on shore that way?"
"Have you ever been kicked by a mule?" asked Fred.
"What are you talking about?" John was completely mystified.
"I asked if you'd ever been kicked by a mule."
"What has that got to do with this race?"
"Simply this," said Fred. "A mule kicked me in the stomach at the start
of the race and I had to quit."
"I think you're crazy," exclaimed John. "What happened to you, Pop?"
"He was the mule," said Fred. "Who won the race anyway?"
"Tell us what you're talking about first," said John, beginning to get a
little bit angry. "Stop talking in riddles."
Fred explained how his stomach had come in contact with George's foot
and how, as a result, they had both been compelled to give up the race.
The tale provided much amusement to the listeners and even Hugh, who had
partly revived, joined in the laughter.
"I'm no mule though," insisted George.
"You've got a kick like one just the same," laughed Fred. "Tell me," he
continued, "who won the race."
"Grant won," replied Mr. Maxwell.
"Good work, Grant," cried Fred. "Who was second?"
"Thomas."
"When you tell me who was third you'll also tell me whether we won the
meet or not. Who was it?"
"John was third," said Grant.
"John?" exclaimed George in mock surprise. "It can't be possible."
"Don't get so fresh," said John and he gave George a violent push which
sent him flying off the end of the wharf into the water.
"Serves him right," said Fred approvingly. "He's very much too fresh."
George came to the surface, gasping and choking.
"Congratulations, String," he cried as soon as he had shaken the water
out of his eyes. "Glad you got a place; I thought you would."
"You can't keep that fellow down," laughed Fred. "There's no use in
trying. He's fresh and he knows it, but no matter what you do to him he
keeps it up just the same."
"He's not fresh," laughed Mr. Maxwell. "He's just full of spirits."
"I don't know what we'd do without him anyway," said Grant feelingly.
"There are not many dull moments when Pop is around."
"I would suggest," said Mr. Maxwell, "that you boys go and put your
clothes on. The sun is beginning to go down and it'll be cold soon."
"I'm cold now," exclaimed John. "I'm going to get my clothes all right."
He hurried off towards the tent closely followed by the seven other
boys. A brisk rub down with heavy towels soon got their blood to
circulating once more and no one felt any ill effects from all their
exercises and exertion of the day.
"Now I shall present the prizes," said Mr. Maxwell when the boys were
assembled in front of the tent. "The blue team wins the meet by the
margin of eight points to six. I congratulate them and take great
pleasure in presenting to them the big American flag. They all know how
I feel about it and I expect them to treat it as it should be treated."
"Three cheers for the blue team," cried Thomas lustily and they were
given with a will, as Grant stepped forward to receive the trophy.
"And now the second prize," said Mr. Maxwell. "It's not as big as the
first but the size doesn't count. Everything depends on whether our
hearts are with the flag or not. If I should happen to come back to this
lake unexpectedly any time this summer I shall expect to see both these
flags flying in front of their respective tents."
"We'll promise that all right," said Thomas readily, and as he took the
emblem from Mr. Maxwell's hand, Grant led a cheer for the red team.
"One more prize," continued Mr. Maxwell. "I brought something which I
decided should go to the boy who in my judgment gave the best individual
performance. That is who in any one event showed the most nerve and
grit. Perhaps he didn't win the event but he worked hardest and that is
what to my mind deserves the credit."
He produced a large four-bladed pocket knife and held it up for the
eight boys to see. This was a surprise to them all and they looked at
one another in amazement. They also cast many envious glances at the
knife which was certainly a beauty and one of which any boy could well
be proud.
"It was an awful job deciding," said Mr. Maxwell. "Every one did so well
I was almost in despair as to whom to give it to. I have finally
decided, however, and I feel sure you'll all think the boy deserves it."
Not one of the boys had the least idea who was to become the fortunate
owner of the knife and in keen suspense they all waited.
"I will now ask the winner to step forward," continued Mr. Maxwell. "I
watched him closely in the contest which I think entitles him to the
prize and I don't remember ever having seen a finer exhibition of pluck.
I know just how tired he was and how much nerve he required to keep
himself going. He didn't win the race himself but he did win the meet
for his team and I think he should have the credit. John, here is your
knife. That was a great race you swam a few minutes ago."
John was completely taken by surprise. He had not for a moment expected
that he was to be the fortunate one and he was almost overcome.
"Yea, String!" shouted George heartily. "Let's give the old thin fellow
three cheers."
Congratulations were in order and there was much laughter and fun. Every
one was in excellent spirits and all pronounced the meet a decided
success. The day was fast waning now and the party of visitors prepared
to leave the island for their camp at the other end of the land. The
four Go Ahead boys escorted them to their boat and good-bys were said.
Promises that the eight boys would see one another soon were made and
the Spruce weighed anchor and glided out of the little harbor.
"Well," exclaimed Grant when their guests had gone, "I think we had a
pretty fine time to-day."
"We certainly did," agreed Fred. "What we want now is a pole for our
flag. It ought to be set right up in front of the tent there."
"I'll get the ax right now and we'll go and cut one," said George. "Come
along, Fred."