The boys considered this in silence for a few minutes.
“Aw, forget it, Spud,” advised Chip. “Hal wouldn’t do that. He’s got us going, and we’re sore, that’s all. Let’s take a canoe and try for that big laker you lost the other day.”
“I’m with you,” replied Spud promptly. “Bet he don’t get away from me again!”
Meanwhile Walter and Tug had paddled out to the raft, where boys from both wigwams were enjoying a morning swim. Walter was a fair swimmer, but he soon found that Tug quite outclassed him. As a matter of fact Tug was the star swimmer of the tribe, and in the water was as much at home as a fish. He watched Walter critically for a few minutes.
“You’ll do best at long distance,” he decided. “We’ll put you in for the quarter mile. You’re rotten on the crawl, and the crawl’s the only thing for the hundred yards. You’ve got something to learn on that overhand, too. You fight the water too much. You don’t get in your full power, and when you try to hit it up you waste your strength. Here, let me show you!”
With a clean-cut dive Tug left the raft, and Walter watched with admiration, not unmixed with envy, the powerful yet easy overhand strokes that sent the swimmer through the water without apparent exertion, yet at a speed that made his own best efforts seem hopeless. Tug regained the raft, and Walter noted that he was breathing as easily as if he had not been in the water at all.
“Say, Tug, will you coach me?” he asked eagerly.
“Surest thing you ever knew! That’s what I’m here for,” was Tug’s hearty reply. “But you’ve got to keep at it every day. No soldiering, and, kid, no getting mad when I throw the hooks into you! If we can get even a third in the quarter we’ll pretty near break even with the Hurons. The Algonquins have only one man we’re really afraid of, and the Senecas don’t cut much ice in the water, but are all to the good on it.”
“Paddling?” asked Walter.
“Yep,” replied Tug. “They’ve got a great tandem team, and a four I’m afraid we can’t touch at all. And then you know they’ve got a long lead on points for fish, thanks to Harrison. By Jove, I should like to know where he gets those big fellows, and what bait he uses. He’s mum as an oyster.”