"I'm sorry I was to blame for your going into the creek," apologized
Ned Rector, bending over the shivering Stacy.

"I fell in, didn't I?" grinned the fat boy.

"No, you rolled in. My, but that water was cold!"

"B-r-r-r!" shivered Stacy, as the recollection of his icy bath came
back to him. "Di--did you win the race?"

"Tad won it. I've got to get up and cook the breakfast, and it
wasn't my turn at all. It was Tad's turn."

"Yab-hum," yawned Stacy, "I'm awful sleepy."

"So am I," answered Ned, uttering a long-drawn yawn.

"See here, Master Ned. Get out of those wet pajamas, rub yourself
down thoroughly and put on a dry suit. I can't have you all sick on
my hands to-morrow," commanded the Professor.

"Don't worry about us," laughed Ned. "It takes more than a bath in a
cold creek to lay us up, eh, Tad?"

"I hope so," answered Tad Butler, who had rubbed himself until his
body glowed. "But I thought once or twice that I was a goner while I
was holding to that rock. I could not make Chunky try to support
himself at all. He just clung to me until he fagged me all out."