“I’ll take a whirl at it,” said Joe. “It looked easy enough the way you rode in the last time.”
“Sure it’s easy,” grinned Bob, shaking the water out of his ears. “Go to it, Joe. I’ll stand by to rescue you if you need it.”
Joe made several attempts, and received some rough handling from some big breakers before he finally contrived to make a fairly successful trip.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, scrambling to shore and throwing the surfboard at Jimmy. “It’s fun if you have luck, but I thought I was going to drink the whole Atlantic Ocean once or twice. You try it, Jimmy. It’s your board, anyway.”
“Yes, I know it’s my board,” said Jimmy. “Don’t you want to try it next, Herb?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t think of using it before you,” said Herb. “I want to have the fun of seeing you get drowned before me, Doughnuts.”
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t refuse to give you that pleasure, so here goes,” returned Jimmy, and he waded manfully into the surf, the board poised above his head.
He made a lunge at the first big breaker that came along, but instead of planting the board at an angle, he slapped it against the wave in a vertical position, and the next second he was underneath the board and was being ignominiously rolled and tumbled along the sandy bottom. When the wave finally left him, he staggered to his feet and found the treacherous surfboard floating within a yard of him.
His companions, seeing him safe, laughed heartily at his woebegone and bedraggled appearance.
“It’s great sport, isn’t it, Jimmy?” chaffed Bob.