"Me for a bully good swim!" exclaimed the long-legged boy, as he started for the nearby river.
Others were quick to follow his example, for few healthy boys there are to whom the opportunity for splashing in the water on a summer morn does not appeal.
"Keep on your guard, fellows!" called Mr. Garrabrant, who was busily employed doing something near one of the tents. "The current is swift, and unless I miss my guess the river is quite deep here. Elmer, you go along and watch out that no one comes to harm," and he turned once again to his task, confident that his assistant was capable of executing his wishes properly.
Ten minutes passed away, and Mr. Garrabrant, having managed successfully to complete the little job he had set himself to execute, was thinking it time the boys who were bathing should be recalled, when he heard sudden cries that pierced him like an arrow.
"Hey! look at Jasper, would you, how funny he acts!"
"Elmer! Elmer! come here! Jasper's got a cramp! He's gone down!"
Hurriedly did the alarmed scout master leap to his feet and start wildly in the direction of these loud outcries. No doubt in that second of time he saw the faces of the Merriweather boy's parents, filled with the agony that comes to those who have lost a son by drowning; and the mental picture sent Mr. Garrabrant flying over the ground.