“Oh, Pop, I’m so sorry! Do they hurt, Pop? Come back here and let me drive them in for you!”
Peace was restored by the time they were passing the tennis courts. Eastward, above the trees beyond the little river, a silvery radiance heralded the moon. They skirted the running track and made their way to where, dimly, the dark form of the boathouse loomed ahead of them. When they reached it Pop experimentally tried all the doors, but found them fast. They disrobed in the shadow of the building and then, making certain that there were no passers on the road, a few rods distant, they raced down the float and plunged into the water with whoops of glee. When their heads emerged the moon had topped the trees and, save where the shadow of the covered bridge lay across it, the stream was bathed in silver. The water was warm, but far cooler than the air, and Pop grunted ecstatically as he rolled over on his back and floated lazily, blinking at the moon. It was then that Nick obtained his revenge. Sinking very quietly, he swam across under water, emerged behind the unsuspecting Pop, and—
“Glug-gug-gug!” observed Pop, as his head went suddenly under and his feet flashed white in the radiance. When he arose again, sputtering and gasping, Nick was far across the stream, paddling gently and crooning a little song.
“There was an old man and his name was Pop.
His head went down and his feet went up!”
Stirring moments then, ending in the terrestrial flight of Nick, Pop begging him to come back and be drowned! Finally they all gathered under the bridge and lolled on a crosspiece and dabbled their legs in the cool water and talked. Once a team went past overhead, and once an automobile sped across, roaring fearsomely and threatening to bring the old structure down on top of them. Then quiet again, and the winding stretch of the river below, black and silver. With the rising of the moon the little breeze had found courage and now blew cooler from the west. Nine o’clock struck in the village and they splashed back into the water and swam to the float. Half an hour later they parted in front of Trow, Ted and Pop turning in there and Bert and Nick going on to Lothrop.
Nick turned off at the top of the second flight and Bert continued to his room. But when he had donned pajamas the latter descended again, the slate steps gratefully cool to his bare feet, and he and Nick stretched out on the window-seat and talked while the breeze blew past them and softly rustled the papers on the table. Ten o’clock struck. The conversation became fitful. Once Nick snored frankly and then jerked himself awake again, and replied brightly to an observation of Bert’s made five minutes before. Through the window they could look for nearly a mile over fields and tree-bordered roads. A little way off the buildings of a small farm were clustered about the black shadows of a group of elms. Beyond that two streaks of silver glittered where the moon glinted on the railroad tracks. Bert wondered if, after all, the view from this side of the building was not more attractive than that from the front, wondered what sort of a chap this new roommate of his would turn out to be, wondered if he had not taken a pretty big chance in accepting him sight-unseen, wondered why Nick didn’t wake himself up with his own snoring, wondered—
Some time in the early morning he disentangled himself from the encumbering Nick and groped his way down to his own room. He didn’t remember much about it afterwards, though.