I had sat up in the hammock, and setting my feet in my slippers, I rose to my pajamaed height and said, “This is the hottest ever. I’ll get the other fellows and we’ll go over to Marsh’s Pond and have a swim at sunrise.” I tiptoed up to the hot box that contained Tom and Benedict and whispered to them, “Are you awake?” Tom answered, “Oh, no, we’re sound asleep and dreaming of icebergs.” Then I could hear him shaking the bed with suppressed laughter. “Well, come along for a swim. Get into your old clothes and don’t make a noise.” In a few minutes we were all ready. We passed under Minerva’s window, and although we stepped lightly we waked her and we heard her heavy feet coming down on the floor of her room. I knew that a yawp was due, so I said in a voice loud enough to reach her, “Don’t be frightened, Minerva. It isn’t burglars. It’s Mr. Vernon going for a walk.” “Lawdy, I thought it was more burglars,” said she, and heaved a sigh of relief. Other voices were now heard and from the window of the spare room was thrust the head of Madge, who demanded what was the trouble. “Lack of sleep,” said Tom. “We’re going for a swim. Down to the old swimmin’ hole, my dear.” “What won’t men do?” said Madge, and retired to envy us our privileges. “Might as well tell Ethel what we’re doing. She may be worried,” said I, and we walked under her window. “Give ’em a song,” said Benedict, who was a fine baritone, and he began it, “‘Sleep no more, ladies, sleep no more.’” He sang it as a solo as none of us knew the setting he used, but as an injunction it was needless. The ladies were not calculating on sleeping any more. “Where are you going?” asked Ethel from somewhere out of sight. “Oh, only down to the old swimmin’ hole,” said Tom. “Why, there’s no swimming hole anywhere’s near,” said she. “Marsh’s Pond, my dear,” said I. “This is a record-breaker for heat and we’re going to break the record for swimming at an unseasonable hour. We’ll be back for breakfast. Good night.” “How far is it?” asked Tom. “Oh, only a couple of miles or so,” said I. “We’ll take it easy there and back.” “Please may I be excused,” said Benedict. “I’m not in training for such a walk on an empty stomach.” “That’s easily remedied. We’ll fill up on cold lamb.” And we did fill up, and then we started, and in spite of the heat, we enjoyed the walk. It was after three and it would need the pencil of a poet and artist combined to tell of the wonders and the beauties of that walk with the delicate indications of the coming dawn filling the east with rosy promise.