“Queer place to swim, among all those rushes,” Joe responded. “But I guess you’re right. We can tell for sure farther on.”
“Yes. Look; there he comes out. There’s a sort of beach there, remember? He’s walking out, and——”
“If it doesn’t look like Jack Weatherby, I’ll eat my hat!” Joe interrupted.
“Weatherby!” echoed Tracy. “What’s he doing down here? He’s at practise.”
“No, only the first squad from ten until eleven; he’s in the second. That’s who it is, Jack Weatherby.”
“Rot! It doesn’t look the least bit like Weatherby to me. I tell you what, we’ll go over and see.”
“Can you get there in this tea-kettle?” asked Joe doubtfully.
“Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be; it’s just a nice little jounce.”
“All right, only remember that I’m not made of india-rubber.”