“Yes, isn’t it?” responded her fellow-plotter. “Look at him!—he went right under then, and never minded a bit. He’ll be like a dabchick soon.”
And indeed, after three days of water-tennis, Rex revolted against the limitations of the non-swimmer. The ball had bobbed away from him at an unexpected angle into deep water; he flopped after it, missed his footing, and went under. Scarcely had his head disappeared when a twin was by his side, her hand on his arm. Rex came up, shaking the water from his eyes, and bursting into a flood of incoherent speech.
“Why, you’re not frightened, Rex?” demanded Jo, the twin in question. “You weren’t really in deep water, you know.”
“Frightened? No, of course I’m not frightened,” said Rex crossly. “I’m wild, that’s all! It’s just too silly, not being able to swim—I’d have had that ball as easy as wink if I could have swum two strokes. Do teach me, Jo!”
“My, rather!” said Jo delightedly. “Here you go—I’ll hold you.” She swung him off his feet, her hands under his chest. “Now kick away: hands too. I won’t let you down.”
Rex kicked manfully, thrashing the water until the splashing almost hid his teacher and himself. Gradually Jo induced him to calm his movements, and they progressed up and down beside the rope.
“Don’t try to go too quickly—you aren’t trying to increase your number of strokes per minute, you’re learning to swim. Bring your hands well back—remember you’re using them and the soles of your feet to push you through the water—that’s right, now you’re doing better. Slowly does it—now, don’t you begin to feel you’re shoving yourself along?”
“I’m not really, am I?” Rex panted.
“Yes, of course you are; do you think I’d walk about in the water carrying a great lump like you?” demanded his instructor, pithily. “Not much; and soon you’ll be doing all the work for yourself, and I’ll only be keeping one finger under your chin; and then I’ll forget you, when I want to scratch my nose, and take it away; and you’ll never notice, ’cause you’ll be swimming along merrily by yourself. All that keeps most people from swimming is the idea that it’s dreadful to go under the water; now you’ve found out that it’s really quite pleasant and homely under there, and you won’t mind a bit. And I’ll write to your mother and tell her you’ve developed into a young human porpoise, and she’ll be ever so proud! And now I think we’ll have a rest,” Jo finished, panting herself. “Stick your feet down: you’re only within your depth.”
“Like it. Rex?” demanded Billy, swimming happily on the other side of the rope.