A long sapling had been lashed to the wharf, projecting out over the water.  Its smooth surface shone from a liberal allowance of soft soap, and a small flag was thrust into a hole bored in its far end.  As they watched, the first competitor appeared—a tall boy, in an old shirt and trousers. He started gingerly along the pole, and made excellent progress until he was half-way.  Then his feet suddenly slid from under him, and he sat down abruptly, the pole quivering and bounding under his weight.  He clawed wildly at the slippery surface.  Then the water received him kindly.