Uncle William (or, to give him his proper title, Mr. William Cunard) was the judge at the finish, and the six boys, wearing the scantiest possible bathing suits, were rowed across to the other side of the Arm in boats. "I’m awfully excited," said Jack Stone to Frank Brookfield on the way over, in so low a tone that none of the other boys heard him. "Father says he’ll double the prize if I win. But if I don’t win, I hope to goodness you will." "Whoever wins will have a hard fight for it," said Frank. "Both George and Hal can swim like fishes. I don’t know about the other two." Presently the boat touched the shore, and the boys all leaped out and took up their positions upon the ledge of rock from which they were to start. "Are you ready?" called out the starter. "Then go." And with a tremendous splash the whole six plunged into the water like one man. The next moment they were all at the surface again, and cleaving the calm water at the top of their speed. Frank was using his favourite overhand stroke, Jack the side stroke, and the rest the ordinary breast stroke. For some distance there was little difference between them. You might have covered them with a handkerchief, so to speak. Then, little by little, Frank and Jack, keeping well together, began to draw away from George and Hal, who in their turn led the other two. By the time the centre of the Arm was reached, it was plain to all that the race lay between the two friends, and amid cheers and shouts of "Go it, Frank!" "Hit her up, Jack!" "Pretty work, both of you; keep it up!" they ploughed through the water side by side. [Illustration: "JACK FELT HIMSELF WEAKENING."] Three-fourths of the distance was now covered, and their positions were unchanged, when with a pang that went right to his heart Jack felt himself weakening. Inch by inch his stroke shortened, and first Frank’s head, then his neck, then his shoulders slipped past him. Gritting his teeth with fierce determination, and breathing hard, he strained every nerve to recover his lost ground; but all in vain. Frank gained steadily until his heels were in a line with Jack’s head. Already they were raising the shouts of victory, when Frank, turning to see what lead he had, caught sight of Jack’s pale face, in which disappointment and despair were already showing themselves, and it brought up in his mind that same face a week before, when, pallid but resolute, just as it was now, it cut the water close beside him, while the boy to whom it belonged struggled so bravely with the death that threatened. A mist came in his eyes and a lump rose in his throat as he thought of this. "He saved my life," he murmured to himself. "Hallo! what’s up with Frank?" said Mr. Cunard. "He has almost stopped. He must be done out. Just shove out that boat there toward him, will you?"