“Which foot?” she asked, as she dropped her legs down and began treading water beside him. “The left one—ouch! Now it’s both of them.” He doubled his knees, as if involuntarily raised his head and chest forward out of the water, and sank out of sight in the down-wash of a scarcely cresting breaker. Under no more than a brief several seconds, he emerged spluttering and stretched out on his back again. Almost he grinned, although he managed to turn the grin into a pain-grimace, for his simulated cramp had become real. At least in one foot it had, and the muscles convulsed painfully. “The right is the worst,” he muttered, as she evinced her intention of laying hands on his cramp and rubbing it out. “But you’d better keep away. I’ve had cramps before, and I know I’m liable to grab you if these get any worse.” Instead, she laid her hands on the hard-knotted muscles, and began to rub and press and bend. “Please,” he gritted through his teeth. “You must keep away. Just let me lie out here—I’ll bend the ankle and toe-joints in the opposite ways and make it pass. I’ve done it before and know how to work it.” She released him, remaining close beside him and easily treading water, her eyes upon his face to judge the progress of his own attempt at remedy. But Lee Barton deliberately bent joints and tensed muscles in the directions that would increase the cramp. In his bout the preceding year with the affliction, he had learned, lying in bed and reading when seized, to relax and bend the cramps away without even disturbing his reading. But now he did the thing in reverse, intensifying the cramp, and, to his startled delight, causing it to leap into his right calf. He cried out with anguish, apparently lost control of himself, attempted to sit up, and was washed under by the next wave. He came up, spluttered, spread-eagled on the surface, and had his knotted calf gripped by the strong fingers of both Ida’s small hands. “It’s all right,” she said, while she worked. “No cramp like this lasts very long.” “I didn’t know it could be so savage,” he groaned. “If only it doesn’t go higher! It makes one feel so helpless.” He gripped the biceps of both her arms in a sudden spasm, attempting to climb out upon her as a drowning man might try to climb out on an oar and sinking her down under him. In the struggle under water, before he permitted her to wrench clear, her rubber cap was torn off, and her hairpins pulled out, so that she came up gasping for air and half-blinded by her wet-clinging hair. Also, he was certain he had surprised her into taking in a quantity of water. “Keep away!” he warned, as he spread-eagled with acted desperateness. But her fingers were deep into the honest pain-wrack of his calf, and in her he could observe no reluctance of fear. “It’s creeping up,” he grunted through tight teeth, the grunt itself a half-controlled groan.