“He’s exhausted,” cried Mr. Maxwell, and without waiting an instant he dived into the water, fully clothed as he was, to rescue his nephew.
When John opened his eyes he saw Mr. Maxwell in the water, swimming for the dock with one hand and holding Hugh by the hair of his head with the other.
“What’s the trouble, Grant?” demanded John.
“Hugh sank.”
“What was the matter with him?”
“He was tired out, I guess. Here, let me have him now,” he said to Mr. Maxwell and leaning out from the dock he seized Hugh by the arms. His uncle gave the half-drowned boy a boost and he was soon stretched out at full length on the little wharf.
“That was a close call,” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell grimly as he clambered out after him. “It’s a lucky thing he was so near the dock. Where are the rest of the boys?”
“Here are two of them,” said Grant as Franklin and Herbert swam leisurely up to the dock. Seeing that they were hopelessly beaten they had not exerted themselves the last seventy-five yards of the race.
“Where are the other two?” exclaimed John anxiously. He had recovered most of his breath and strength now and not seeing George or Fred was fearful lest the fate that Hugh had so narrowly escaped had befallen them.
“Turn around and you’ll see.”