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F it is better to be "first in a village than last in Rome," Ralph McGregor should have been content. For there was no doubt that he was the first among the village boys in all those pursuits which they most valued. Not only was he thus preeminent, but he was blessed with competitors some of whom were able to threaten his possession of the title of champion.

Ralph, therefore, never failed to realize the sweetness of power—continual attempts to displace him having thus far only resulted in lengthening the list of his victories.

One Saturday afternoon the boys started for their swimming-beach, which was on a lake not far from the village where they lived. With and without permission, the little group had come, in twos and threes, along the hot and dusty road which led past the village store, between fields and meadows, over the rises and hollows, to the lake shore.

On the way down there had been a race; and, after an exciting 156