Like all water carnivals, the first events were of minor character. A sack race in which the swimmers were encased in a bag up to the waist caused endless mirth as, hampered by the bag which did not allow them the use of their legs, they floundered along, struggling and splashing. Then came an obstacle race in which the swimmers had to climb over obstacles placed in the course. Some did not try to climb, but dived underneath, and were declared out of the race for fouling. Others attempted to climb and fell back into the water with a splash.
Then came the first real trial of skill, the preliminaries of the hundred-yard race. There were so many entries that three heats had to be run off, four in a heat, the first two to qualify. Peters was drawn for the first trial, Frank noticed. He watched his rival keenly as the first four took the water, and saw with a little sinking of the heart that the tall, slender Peters was far and away better than his competitors. He swam a powerful trudgeon stroke, which carried him rapidly and easily. Peters did not spurt. He did not have to, but finished easily in the lead of his nearest competitor by ten feet; and, instead of getting upon the float at the far end of the course, just to show that he was not exhausted he swung around and came back at even a faster clip than he had held in the race. As he pulled himself up on the float, he gave Frank a glance from under his heavy brows, but did not show that he recognized him.
"That's the lad for my money," observed a bystander. "Did you see how easy he won that trial?"
"He's the best here, I guess," said a companion. "There's a fellow here called Armstrong, but I don't think he has any business with Peters. That fellow's a cracker-jack," and they both gazed after the lad with admiration. Frank heard, but said nothing. His friends were with him, Jimmy in a natty bathing suit, Lewis still in his regular street clothes, for the plunge did not come till later, and the Codfish in immaculate flannels with flowing blue tie and socks to match.
In a minute the next four were sent off in a nip-and-tuck race, at the end of which the announcer bawled out:
"Second trial goes to Hatch, with Burley second!" Hatch also swam back to the float, as had Peters, and was helped out by the latter, who complimented him on his winning the trial. Frank noticed that the two swimmers, as they walked to the dressing room, cast a glance in his direction. They were speaking in low tones.
"They're great pals, those two," said one of the nearby spectators.
"And they're hatching up something for you, Frank," said Jimmy in a whisper. "I don't like the looks of either of them."