"Keep kicking your feet," he ordered Albert and, with a sudden backward sweep of his arm, he grabbed the astonished lad by his hair.
The crowd laughed and cheered, but Artie paid no attention. He knew what he meant to do, and with grim determination he forged ahead, swimming a queer, one-sided stroke and dragging Albert along by main force.
It is doubtful if Artie could have won, had not the other swimmers allowed their attention to be distracted by his performance. But they were so interested to see what he was doing and Albert made so much noise, too, that they turned their heads and one or two stopped swimming and floated, the better to watch.
"Great guns, he's done it!" Fred cried, a few minutes later. "Artie's won the race!"
And Artie, "I told you so" in every line of his expressive face, held up Albert with one hand and took his gold piece with the other, quite as though he was accustomed to doing double duty.
"I said I was going to win," was all the comment he made when the other members of the Riddle Club descended upon him to congratulate him.
"Carrie Pepper is looking for you!" a girl in the crowd called to Polly, as, the races over, the audience began to break up and drift away.
"Well, you needn't look for Carrie Pepper," Fred said crossly, but Polly stopped him.
"Here comes Carrie now," she said. "I wonder what she wants?"
Carrie burst into speech as soon as she caught sight of the Riddle Club, all gathered in a bunch.