"A race! A race!" shouted one of the students on the shore, and his cry soon brought a score or more of the others to the spot.
"I think Tom Rover will win that race."
"I'll bet on Major Larry."
"Fred Garrison is ahead. He's the best swimmer in the school."
"He can't swim as well as Dick Rover."
"I'll bet Jackson wins," came from Lew Flapp, who was in the crowd on the beach. Jackson, it will be remembered, was one of his particular cronies.
"Jackson can't swim against Dick Rover," came from Songbird Powell, who had hardly spoken to Flapp since the row at Mike Sherry's resort.
"I'll bet you a dollar he beats Rover," replied the tall boy, in a low tone.
"I don't bet, Flapp."
"You're afraid to bet," sneered the tall boy.
This statement angered Powell and he quickly dove into his pocket and pulled out the sum mentioned.
"This is the time you lose, Flapp," he said quietly.
Another student was made stakeholder and each boy passed over his money.
By this time the race was well underway. Tom
