“No, no! Keep away! What are you going to do with me?”
“Give you what you need—a bath and a rub down.”
In a jiffy they had stripped Pod’s clothes off and put on his swimming trunks, and with Pod between them, groaning at every step, Chot and Tom rushed down to the water’s edge and plunged into the stream, followed more leisurely by Fleet.
Pod went under the water and came up puffing.
“Swimming will limber you up,” said Tom, “and a good rub down will finish the business off.”
Pod sent up a protest, but the water was deep where his chums had carried him, and he was forced to exert himself to keep afloat. Gradually some of the lameness left him, as stiff muscles began to limber under the exercise, and after a ten minutes swim, while still lame he was able to scramble up on to the knoll with some degree of comfort. The boys had each brought a rough bath towel, and these were now brought into play and their skins rubbed until they shone with a ruddy glow. Perfect pictures of modern young athletes were these lads, as they stood there on the river bank, their fine muscular development showing to its full advantage, their breaths coming in the long, even way that denotes strong lungs.
“I surely feel better,” said Pod. “Gee, when I woke up, though! I hate to think about it.”
“Don’t,” said Fleet, laconically.
“I don’t need your advice,” said Pod. “What I need is a cup of coffee.”
“We all need that,” said Chot.