The North Grammar boys now splashed in. Len Spencer, who had just seen to the placing of the further stake boat, now returned in the launch.
Both the squad race and the individual contest were to be for a quarter of a mile straightaway, with the start from a moored raft down the river.
"Every one pile aboard!" called Len, the launch that he was on gliding in at the pier. Wet swimmers dropped into the launch until it was filled. Then another small gasoline craft took aboard the left-overs. The crowd preferred to remain at this end of the course to see the finish.
"It won't take North Grammar long to wind your crowd up in the water," declared Hi Martin, as he and Dick stood at the end of the pier watching the departure. Both were already in their bathing costumes.
"Maybe not," Dick assented. "Yet you mustn't forget one fact,
Hi."
"What is that?"
"You mustn't forget that our fellows have already got their winning gait on this season."
"Humph! We'll see."
"It won't take us long, either," Dick continued. "There, the fellows are piling on the raft."
From the distance the spectators could see the two swimming teams lining up on the raft. They could also make out that Len Spencer was addressing the boys from the raft.