“Sure,” Dub called out. “You don’t think they heard us over at camp, do you?”
“Sure not,” I said. Gee, I thought that was a funny thing to ask. He must have thought we had a broadcasting station.
Dub was sitting in the stern of the boat sculling it. The other fellow was sitting on the middle seat. When the boat came close Dub said kind of careless like, “Well, I went and did it, didn’t I?”
“Who is it?” I asked. All the while I was pulling up the boat.
Dub said, “Pull her up easy, look out you don’t tip her. How do I know who it is? Do you think I can see under water? He’s all in, I know that. The anchor rope was all tangled up with his leg. I ought to get the prize for untying knots under water.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” I said.
As soon as I had hauled the boat up far enough I got into it. The fellow on the middle seat was sitting all hunched over. I grabbed hold of him and said, “Are you all right?”
“Sure, he’s all right,” Dub said, “except he’s wet.”
I took hold of the fellow to help him up and then he looked at me and I just stood there gaping at him. It was Will Dawson.
“What—the—” I just started blurting out. “I thought you were at camp-fire. What are you doing here—for—the—love—of—Go-o-d night! And you’re one of the best swimmers in the troop!”