What a thrill of pleasure that was!
"Last in's a dirty sucker."
"Look out for my bad knee," was the response.
The rest of the race was a mixture of stripping and sprinting and the boys splashed in together.
Five feet deep in the deep hole, a hundred yards long, and all their own doing.
"Now, wasn't it worth it?" asked Yan, who had had much difficulty in keeping Sam steadily at play that looked so very much like work.
"Wonder how that got here? I thought I left that in the teepee?" and Sam pointed to a log that he used for a seat in the teepee, but now it was lodged in the overflow.
Yan was a good swimmer, and as they played and splashed, Sam said: "Now I know who you are. You can't hide it from me no longer. I suspicioned it when you were working on the dam. You're that tarnal Redskin they call 'Little Beaver.'"
"I've been watching you," retorted Yan, "and it seems to me I've run up against that copper-coloured scallawag—'Young-Man-Afraid-of-a-[Shovel].'"