“I haven’t heard the train whistle yet, though it must be due,” replied Mrs. Pennington. “You and Boy make so much noise swimming that we’ll miss Gabriel’s trump if we happen to be in the pool at the time!”
The colonel, Custer, and Grace Evans dived simultaneously, and, coming up together, raced for the shallow end, where Mrs. Evans and her hostess were preparing to leave the pool. The girl, reaching the hand rail first, arose laughing and triumphant.
“My foot slipped as I dived,” cried the younger Pennington, wiping the water from his eyes, “or I’d have caught you!”
“No alibis, Boy!” laughed the colonel. “Grace beat you fair and square.”
“Race you back for a dollar, Grace!” challenged the young man.
“You’re on,” she cried. “One, two, three—go!”
They were off. The colonel, who had preceded them leisurely into the deep water, swam close to his son as the latter was passing, a yard in the lead. Simultaneously the young man’s progress ceased. With a Comanche-like yell he turned upon his father, and the two men grappled and went down. When they came up, spluttering and laughing, the girl was climbing out of the pool.
“You win, Grace!” shouted the colonel.
“It’s a frame-up!” cried Custer. “He grabbed me by the ankle!”
“Well, who had a better right?” demanded the girl. “He’s referee.”