Lee’s face flushed with pleasure at the commendation.
“I’m afraid I’m a good deal of a dub at the game,” he answered. “If I could ever learn to play the way you did yesterday it would be something to talk about. I wish you would teach me the way the game ought to be played. Will you?”
“I’ve got lots to learn about it myself,” replied Bobby, “but what little I know you’re welcome to. There’ll probably be lots of days when we can practice before real cold weather comes.”
Just then a cry of alarm arose from Fred, as he happened to glance toward the lake.
“Look at that boat!” he shouted. “It looks as if it were sinking!”
All eyes were turned on a boat containing four boys, about a quarter of a mile from the shore. Two of the occupants were pulling desperately at the oars, but making scarcely any progress. The other inmates of the boat were waving their hands wildly and shouting at the tops of their voices, although what they were saying could not be distinguished at that distance.
Bobby gave one look and threw down the football.
“Come along, fellows!” he shouted, as he made for the boathouse at the top of his speed.
“They’re sinking and we’ve got to save them!”