Then began a chase that was both exciting and amusing.

Egged on by the laughing spectators the two boys raced around the pool, Steve managing to keep always one lap ahead, slowing down when Sawyer showed signs of faltering and sprinting when the older boy, gathering fresh energy, went on again.
It was a stern chase with a vengeance and might have lasted all night or until one or the other dropped in his tracks had not one of Sawyer's comrades taken a hand in the game.
Steve, breathing hard but good for many more circuits of the track, came trotting along one side of the pool where the youth in question stood with Fowler.

There was a clear space of three feet between him and the edge, but just as Steve drew abreast the older chap stepped forward in his path, and Steve, trying to dodge around him, slipped on the tiling and fell sidewise into the water.

Sawyer, with a grunt of triumph, plunged in from the opposite edge and was on Steve in a twinkling.
"Now, you fresh kid," exclaimed Sawyer angrily, seizing Steve's neck in a big hand as soon as his head came up, "you're going to get what's coming to you!" Steve, battling for breath, gasping and gurgling, tried to wrench away, but the clasp on his neck was too strong for his efforts and down he went, squirming and struggling, until his head was under water.

He managed to reach around and get a grip of Sawyer's bathing trunks, but that was small advantage.