They swam around, racing and diving like so many young porpoises, and in a little while the blood returned to their chilled surfaces, making them perfectly comfortable again.
“Reminds you something of Plunkit’s Creek, doesn’t it, Fred?” said Bobby.
“Yes,” agreed Fred, “only this is a good deal longer and wider than that.”
“Then, too, we haven’t got Ap here, watching us from the bank and getting ready to set his dog on us,” grinned Mouser.
“We don’t owe Ap anything,” laughed Bobby. “We paid him all up that day we made him walk the plank.”
“Do you remember how he looked when he struck the water?” chuckled Pee Wee.
“I wonder if he and Pat have met each other since we came away,” said Bobby, as he recalled the scene at the railway station on the morning they left Clinton.
“Ap had better keep his whip handy,” observed Fred.
“That wouldn’t help him much,” returned Bobby. “Pat would take it away from him and wade into him.”
They had been in and out of the water for perhaps an hour, when Bobby, who had swum down to where the shore curved a little, suddenly turned and swam back again as fast as he could.