"I guess we all have," Dick nodded, himself turning back. His chums followed.
"I don't know whether I'll dress or not," remarked Tom Reade, as he shot ahead of the others. "If I find I don't want to dress, then I'll just sit on the bank and dry my skin before going in again."
Continuing his spurt, Tom kept on until be reached the log from which the first diving had been done. He waded ashore, looked about in some bewilderment, and then called over the water:
"Say, fellows, just where was it that we left our clothes?"
"Why, barely a dozen feet back of the log," Dick called from the water.
"Hardly ten feet from where my clothes lie," added Hi Martin, his face solemn, but with an inward chuckle over the rage of six boys that he knew was soon to follow.
"But where are your clothes, Martin?" asked Tom, staring about him. "Where is anybody's clothes?"
The look in Hi's face changed rapidly. He took a few swift, strong strokes that bore him to shore.
Then, indeed, Martin's wrath and disgust knew no bounds. For his clothing was as invisible as that of the Central Grammar boys.