We were diving and 'seeing who could stay under longest.' We managed to remain down by holding on to the hoop poles.
Dutchy made such a poor success of it that he was hailed with laughter and derision every time his head appeared above water.

At last he seemed hurt with the taunts, and begged us to stand still on the bank and be fair with him and give him an honest count--'be friendly and kind just this once, and not miscount for the sake of having the fun of laughing at him.' Treacherous winks were exchanged, and all said 'All right, Dutchy--go ahead, we'll play fair.' Dutchy plunged in, but the boys, instead of beginning to count, followed the lead of one of their number and scampered to a range of blackberry bushes close by and hid behind it.

They imagined Dutchy's humiliation, when he should rise after a superhuman effort and find the place silent and vacant, nobody there to applaud.

They were 'so full of laugh' with the idea, that they were continually exploding into muffled cackles.
Time swept on, and presently one who was peeping through the briers, said, with surprise-- 'Why, he hasn't come up, yet!' The laughing stopped.
'Boys, it 's a splendid dive,' said one.
'Never mind that,' said another, 'the joke on him is all the better for it.' There was a remark or two more, and then a pause.

Talking ceased, and all began to peer through the vines.