Mr. Fogerty at this point, I gave myself
over to the joy of the moment and went wallowing along, giving a
surprising imitation of the famous Australian crawl. Far in the
distance I sighted an island, to which I decided to swim. This was a
very poor decision, indeed, because long before I had reached the
spot I was in a sinking condition owing to the great heaviness of my
suit and a tremendous slacking down of lung power. It was too late to
retreat to the shore; the island was the nearest point, and that
wasn't near. On I gasped, my mind teeming with cheerless thoughts of
the ocean's bed waiting to receive me. Just as I was about to shake
hands with myself for the last time I cleared the water from my eyes
and discovered that the island though still distant was not altogether
impossible. Therewith I discarded the top part of my suit and struck
out once more. The island was now almost within my grasp. Life seemed
to be not such a lost cause after all. Then suddenly, quite clearly,
just as I was about to pull myself up on the shore, I saw a woman
standing on the bank and heard her shouting in a very conventional
voice:

"Private property! Private property!"

I sank. This was too much. As I came up for the first count, and just
before I sank back beneath the blue, I had time to hear her repeat:

"Private property! Please keep off!"

I went down very quickly this time and very far. When I arose I saw as
though in a dream another woman standing by the first one and
seemingly arguing with her.

"He's drowning!" she said.

"I'm sure I can't help that!" the other one answered. And then in a
loud, imperious voice:

"Private property! No visitors allowed!"

The water closed over my head and stilled her hateful voice.

"No," she was saying as I came up for the third time; "I can't do it.
If I make an exception of one I must make an exception of all."

Although I hated to be rude about it, having always disliked forcing
myself upon people, I decided on my fourth trip down that unless I
wanted to be a dead sailor I had better be taking steps. It was almost
too late. There wasn't enough wind left in me to fatten a small sized
bubble.

"There he is again!" she cried in a petulant voice as I once more
appeared. "Why doesn't he go away?"

"He's just about to--for good!" said the other lady. With a pitiful
yap I struck out feebly in the general direction of the shore. It
wouldn't work. My arms refused to move. Then quite