“Yes, with three hundred yards,” said Dan derisively.
“Huh! You had two hundred yourself,” said Tom scathingly, “and you came near not finishing at all!”
“You kicked up such a sea I couldn’t get my bearings,” answered Dan gravely. “Swam straight out to sea for half a mile or so before I discovered my mistake.”
“If you could swim as well as you can lie—” began Tom.
“Tommy! Tommy!” warned Bob.
“Well, wha-wha-what’s he tu-tu-tu-talk that way for?” asked Tom aggrievedly. “I can swim better than he can, anyway. I’d be ashamed if I couldn’t!”
Dan accepted the gibe in smiling silence, and the Four retired to their two bath houses with chattering teeth. For a while nothing was to be heard but hoarse breathing and the tread of scurrying feet as bath towels were fiercely applied. Then, warmth returning to the chilled bodies, the Four began to whistle and sing at the top of their lungs. Dan went through everything he knew and then began on his own compositions:
“Tom, Tom, the Piper’s son,
Swam a half a mile, by gum!”
It was necessary to sing it very loudly and several times over in order that the subject of the song should hear it. When satisfied by the howls of derision which came from next door that Tom and Bob had heard, he gave his attention to the latter: