be beaten thus, and there and then
demanded our revenge. Whereupon the company--half of them in a very
elementary stage of dressing, and the other half in no stage at all--
resolved itself into a meeting on the spot, and fixed that day week for
a formal trial of prowess between the two classes. Three events were to
be contested--a half-mile race, a hundred yards, and a duck hunt--and,
of course, the winner of two out of the three would carry the day.

Then, in great excitement, we finished our toilets and hurried back to
the school, where, naturally, the news of the coming contest spread like
wildfire and caused a great commotion. The school divided itself
forthwith into two factions, calling themselves the "fivers" and
"sixers." The selection of representatives to compete in the races was
a matter of almost as much excitement as the races themselves, and I
need hardly say it was a proud day for me when I was informed I was to
act in the capacity of "hunter" for the fifth in the duck hunt. I
accepted the honour with mingled pride and misgivings, and spent a busy
week practising for my arduous duties.

Well, the eventful day came at last, and nearly the whole school
mustered at Cramp Corner to see the sport. For the half-mile race,
which was to come off first, there were only two fellows competing. Our
man was Barlow--of paper-chase celebrity--while the sixth were very
confident of winning with Chesney, a hero nearly six feet high.
Certainly, as the two stood on the spring-board waiting the signal to
go, there seemed very little chance for the small Jim against his lanky
antagonist, although some of us comforted ourselves with the
contemplation of our man's long arms and the muscles in his legs. The
course was to be once up Cramp Reach and back--just half a mile. The
swimmers were at liberty to swim in any manner they chose, and bound
only to one rule--to keep their right side.

They were not long kept waiting in their scanty attire on the planks.
The doctor himself gave the signal to start, and at the word they darted
with two "swishes" into the water. Jim's head was up first, and off he
started at a steady chest-stroke, meaning business. Chesney's dive was
a long one, and, considering he had a half-mile race before him, a
foolish one, for he taxed his breath at the outset, which might have
been avoided, had he thought less about elegance and more about the
race. However, he did not seem at first to be an