“That’s enough, fellows. Just a plunge. Turn out now.”
One by one the boys, with pink, glowing skin, climbed up the brass ladder at the upper end of the pool and made for the locker room. Jeff lingered as long as he dared, for he wanted to see if Pell would reappear from under the spring board float. Indeed, he lingered so long that he was the last one in the tank and Mr. Rice spoke to him.
“Come on, Thatcher, you water rat. Climb out. You’ll get another swim to-morrow.”
There was nothing else for Jeff to do but to climb out then and follow the coach into the locker room, leaving Pell alone in the tank and hiding under the spring board float, where, Jeff knew, there was just enough clearance between the bottom of the float and the surface of the water for a swimmer to float flat on his back and keep his face out of water.
For some reason it worried Thatcher to leave Pell hiding there. Twice he looked back to see if he could see the boy, but he realized that if Mr. Rice saw him glancing backward that he would suspect immediately that some one was hiding under the float and then Pell would be caught. This Jeff did not want to have happen, and so he went on into the locker room and said nothing about the Sophomore, concluding of course that as soon as Mr. Rice had left the basement Pell would make his getaway.
In the scramble for towels and the general babble of the locker room, Jeff forgot Pell for a little while until he saw Mr. Rice disappear up the stairs toward the gym. floor. Then he went to the door of the tank room to pass Pell the word.
The diminutive Sophomore was standing on the float poised for a back dive.
“Hi, Pell, he’s gone,” called Thatcher guardedly, “you’d better come out now.”