soon learn to keep himself afloat and can then practise any fancy strokes that he sees others try.  Then, again, don’t try to learn in shallow water, because you will never do it.  Of course it doesn’t pay to jump into water that is over your head unless there is a good swimmer near by to help you out.  But you will never learn to swim until you have become accustomed to putting your head under water.  You can not swim with a dry face.  The first time we went swimming, we couldn’t persuade Dutchy to try it.  The water was deep right up to the very bank and he had never been in over his head.  Instead he sat up in the diving tree swinging his feet and trying to hide the fact that he was having a dull time.

“Say, we’ve got to douse that fellow,” said Reddy.

“You’re right; he needs a wash,” said Jim.  “Let’s sneak up behind him and chuck him in.”

They landed a little ways up the stream behind a large bush and then crept down stealthily on their victim.  But Dutchy had his suspicions aroused and saw them coming.  He scrambled out of the tree in a jiffy and tore off into the woods as fast as his legs could carry him.

Swimming on a Plank.

[Illustration:  Fig. 86.  Swimming on a Plank.]

We didn’t expect to see him again that afternoon, for the pace he was leading should have carried him miles in no time; but while he couldn’t swim, Dutchy had his own ideas of fun on the water.  It was about twenty minutes later that we saw him coming down-stream lying full length on one of the 2-inch planks taken from the bridge wreck.  He was paddling himself along with arms and legs hung over the sides of the plank.  We all gave him a cheer, and then started out to have some fun with him.  We tried to pull him off his raft, but he stuck on like a leech.  It was only when we made his craft turn turtle that Dutchy got his head under water.  But it wasn’t a moment before he scrambled back on top again, gasping and sputtering to get the water out of his nose and mouth.

Uncle Ed all this time had been sunning himself on the bank, when suddenly he uttered a shout of warning.  We were right at the mouth of the mill-race.  For the moment we forgot about Dutchy, and swam out for shore.  Before we realized it Dutchy was caught in the current, and was being swept full tilt down the stream.  My but wasn’t he scared.  I can see him yet clinging for dear life to the plank, his face the color of ashes and his eyes bulging out in terror.  First he tried to make for the bank, but the water was so swift that when the front end of the board struck land the rear end swung around in a circle, carrying him on again, but backward this time, before we could reach him.  Two or three more times the plank struck the bank and turned him around, while we raced along the high bank, scrambling down to catch him every time he headed for shore, but each time just missing him.  Then he swung out past the Tiger’s Tail into the open river just