"Two lengths ahead!" muttered Tom. "I'll beat you yet, Larry! Three lengths! Oh, but this is a dandy race! Pull away, you can't beat me! Oh! There goes an oar," and, bang! went one of the rubber boots against the base board, and Tom made a leap as if diving into the water after it, sprawling and spluttering as he pretended to swim.
"He's got the nightmare again!" shouted out Sam, quick to understand Tom's dodge. "Tom, wake up there!"
"The nightmare!" echoed Mr. Strong. "Is it possible? Poor boy! Wake up, Thomas!" and he caught Tom by the shoulder and shook him and finally set him on his feet.
"The oar—I will have the— Oh!" Tom opened his eyes and stared around him blankly. "Why—er—what's up?"
"My boy, you've had the nightmare," answered the teacher kindly.
"Nightmare!"
"I told you not to eat that pie tonight," put in Sam. "He saved his pie from dinner, and ate it just before we came up here,"—which was true.
"Er—I thought I was on the lake racing Larry Colby," murmured Tom and hid his face as if in embarrassment. "What did I do?" he faltered.
"You almost raised the roof, that's what you did," answered Dick. "You had better send home for some of those digestion tablets you used to take," and then he hid his face in the blankets to keep from laughing out loud.
"I will." Tom turned to George Strong. "Excuse me, Mr. Strong, I am sorry I have caused you so much trouble."