“Shock—yes, I guess so,” said Wilfred.
“You’ve got them all guessing,” said Berry. “I guess you practise down the creek or somewhere, don’t you? Everybody’s wondering where you go when you wander away; they think there must be a secret lake in the woods or something. Jiminy, it reminds me of a prize-fighter in his training quarters—keep away! I told them you have a new method—it’s got them lying awake nights.”
“I guess you could sneak up on them just the same, awake or asleep,” said Wilfred abstractedly.
“Ever yours sincerely,” laughed Berry. “Now that I’ve put it over on the raving Ravens, I can die in peace. The only thing I’m sorry about is Wig Weigand—do you know he’s a blamed nice fellow? And he’s strong for you, too. He’s the only one of that crew of Rip Van Winkles that won’t say anything against you—just keeps still.”
“Yes?” said Wilfred wistfully. “I was sort of special friends with him.”
“Sure, I know you were. He’s going to swim for the Ravens (if they’re awake) and honest I believe he hopes you win. I wish we could stay for it, I know that. Oh, wouldn’t I like to be here to rout for the little Short Beach water-rat!”
“You mean you fellows are going home?” Wilfred asked, surprised.
“To-morrow,” said Allison. “We just came to get the flag, you know. You know a Yank can’t stay away from Yankeeland long; we’re going to spend August in a camp in Connecticut. Oh, boy, won’t my folks be surprised to hear I met you here! Anyway, I’ll see you here next summer—this is some camp, I’ll say that. Can’t you take a run over to New Haven and visit me at Christmas? Dad would go daffy to see you.”
“I can’t run as well as you can,” said Wilfred.
“Oh, is that so? Well, then swim to New Haven, you can do that.”