Our man was Barlow--of paper-chase celebrity--while the sixth were very confident of winning with Chesney, a hero nearly six feet high.
Certainly, as the two stood on the spring-board waiting the signal to go, there seemed very little chance for the small Jim against his lanky antagonist, although some of us comforted ourselves with the contemplation of our man's long arms and the muscles in his legs.

The course was to be once up Cramp Reach and back--just half a mile.

The swimmers were at liberty to swim in any manner they chose, and bound only to one rule--to keep their right side.
They were not long kept waiting in their scanty attire on the planks.
The doctor himself gave the signal to start, and at the word they darted with two "swishes" into the water.

Jim's head was up first, and off he started at a steady chest-stroke, meaning business.

Chesney's dive was a long one, and, considering he had a half-mile race before him, a foolish one, for he taxed his breath at the outset, which might have been avoided, had he thought less about elegance and more about the race.