o the log," suggested the
young skipper. This was soon accomplished. Then each of the Motor Boat
Club boys made a medium length of the cord fast around his chest,
under the arm-pits.

"The next trick," proposed Halstead, "is to make the other end fast to
the log, allowing just length enough so that you can swim well clear
of the log itself, and yet be able to haul yourselves back to the log
in case you find your strength giving out."

This took some calculation, but at last the three motor boat boys
decided that eight feet of line was the proper length. This decided,
and accomplished, they carried the log down into the water, and pushed
resolutely off into the blackness.

Even Tom Halstead, who allowed himself few doubts, little believed
that they could accomplish this long, dangerous swimming cruise over a
rough sea.

CHAPTER V

TOM MATCHES ONE TRICK WITH ANOTHER

At the outset Joe swam at the rear, frequently giving a light push to
send the log riding ahead. Tom and Hank swam on either side,
half-towing the timber that was to be their buoy when needed.

All three, reared at the edge of salt water, as they had been, were
strong, splendid swimmers. This night, however, with the rough waves,
the feat was especially dangerous.

"Swim the way a fellow does when he knows he's really _got_ to," was
the young skipper's terse advice as they started.

It became a contest of endurance. Tom and Joe, the two Maine boys,
were doggedly determined to reach their boat or perish in the attempt.
Hank Butts, the Long Island boy, though perhaps possessing less fine
courage than either of his comrades, had a rough way of treating
danger as a joke. This may have been a pretense, yet in times of peril
it passed well enough for grit.

Any one of the three could have swum a mile readily on a lightly
rolling sea, but to-night the feat was a vastly sterner one. Hank was
the first to give out, after going a little more than an eighth of
the distance. He swam to the log, throwing his right arm over it and
holding on while the two Maine boys pushed and towed it. Finally, when
young Butts had broken away to swim, Joe closed in, holding to the log
for a while. At last it came even doughty Tom Halstead's turn to seek
this aid to buoyancy.

Nor had they covered half the distance, in all, when all three found
themselves obliged to hold to the log, as it rolled and plunged,
riding the waves. Worst of all, despite their exertions, a