“What’s that?” cried the fishes.
“Why, you see,” explained Dick, “it wouldn’t be fair for us all to start from the same line, for Fidge, of course, cannot run as quickly as Marjorie or me; and Marjorie, too, being only a girl, will have to have a start allowed her, and this is called handicapping.”
“Very well, manage it your own way,” was the reply. “When are you going to start?”
“Oh, as soon as you like,” said Dick. “Where’s the winning-post?”
“That white line up by the King’s throne,” said one of the fishes. And Dick, having given Fidge a very long start, and Marjorie a slight advantage, declared himself ready to begin.
“One, to make ready,
Two, to be steady,
Three, and—away!”
shouted one of the principal fishes, and off they scrambled. I say scrambled, because if you have ever tried to run under water you will know that it is a very difficult thing to do—the weight of the water prevents you from getting along at all quickly. The fishes watching the race became very excited, and, in their eagerness to urge them on, kept getting in the children’s way, swimming about in front of them, and getting mixed up with their arms and legs in a most confusing manner. At length, however, this extraordinary race came to an end, and the children arrived at the winning-post in the same order in which they had started.
“Oh, I’ve won—I’ve won!” shouted Fidge, delightedly. “Haven’t I, Dick?”
