Burton tried to show them just how it was done, and was in the water and out of it half a dozen times coaching, but neither of the swimmers caught the idea.
"Well, never mind, let it go to-day and swim me a hundred yards, the three of you. Frank, you take the crawl, and let the other two use what they want to. Get ready, go!"
The boys splashed into the water each in his different way, Frank easy and graceful, Jimmy determined but rather clumsy, and Lewis like a walrus.
"See how Frank pulls away from them," said Burton, now left alone with the Codfish. "That boy is a wonder in the water. Why, they're not any match for him at all, and only last year both of them could beat him. That's what comes of sticking to a thing. Frank was determined to learn that stroke and he got it. The others thought there was nothing in it and didn't try hard."
The swimmers reached the other side of the little rocky inlet and were heading back towards the starting point, with Frank well in the lead, but he slowed up and finished easily, while the others pulled themselves up on the rocks almost exhausted.
"We're no match for Frank at all," said Jimmy, puffing. "He has a motor attached to him somewhere."
"It is the motor of perseverance, my son," said Burton. "You would do better in a long race, I think. Did you ever swim an eighth of a mile—the 220 yards?"
"Yes, but not in a race," answered Jimmy.
"You'll be as good as any of the rest of them at the distance, so I'll put you down for the 220 race. And Lewis, we'll put him in for the plunge."
"What's that?" said Lewis.