lping people and all that
sort of thing. Thanks to a long course of disobedience to his poor
mother, he had learned to swim like a water rat. He had had somewhat
the advantage of other boys in this respect for he had gone swimming
Mondays when they were in school.

But he could not determine even approximately what time it was and he
had no watch. He knew that it was early, but he also knew that a mile
was a long distance, especially against the tide.

Then it occurred to him that he might steal ever so cautiously into the
tent and carefully, _ever so carefully_, pull Townsend's watch out from
under his rough pillow and find out just what time it was. Keekie Joe
had heard some wonderful stories about stalking; from all accounts
rendered by Pee-wee that scout of scouts had hoodwinked every creature
in the animal kingdom, stealing up behind them unawares, and subjecting
every variety of bird to nervous prostration.

But Keekie Joe decided not to try his skill at this kind of stalking.
For one thing, he had never touched a gold watch before and the thought
of it awed him. And for another thing, if Townsend should awake and
catch him in the act he would think that his protege was trying to
steal his watch . . .

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE STORY CLOSES AND SCHOOL OPENS

Keekie Joe could not trust himself in any such stalking exploit and he
had no standing capital of good reputation with which to verify his
honorable intention in case his bungling hand should slip. He had as
good as promised Townsend that he would not go swimming. But also
these boys all had to go to school.

I am not saying what I think he should have done; I am simply telling
you what he did. He slid silently into the water with his rags
clinging to him and started swimming up the river against the ebbing
tide. He had a simple, short-sighted, one-track mind. It never
occurred to him that by undressing he might return and don his dry
clothes again, such as they were. He had always gone in swimming with
his rags on and he was his own clothesline; they dried upon his back.

In the water, Keekie Joe was at his best. He swam to shore like a
little devil. Then, with all his might and main, he ran northward
through the woods keeping close to the shore. This necessitated his
swimming through mud and marshy places. But he hurried on, soaked,
weary, panting. He was a horrible sight when he reached the boat,
dripping with mud, his flesh torn by