Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
You Pay:	$1.29				$1.10

eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: Two rival swimming coaches will do anything to gain a competitive edge for an upcoming women's meet, and the rules are stretched to the limit when one of the coaches enters a mermaid in the contest. The other coach has to retaliate before the meet is lost, and comes up with a fishy counter-plan that has the referee doing flips with his ruleBook!

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Unknown Magazine, 1939
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2001

68 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [311 KB], eReader (PDB) [47 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [35 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [33 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [49 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [103 KB], hiebook (KML) [113 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [61 KB], iSilo (PDB) [29 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [37 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [65 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [51 KB]
Words: 10589
Reading time: 30-42 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Not many spectators turn out for a meet between two minor women's swimming clubs, and this one was no exception. Louis Connaught, looking up at the balcony, thought casually that the single row of seats around it was about half full, mostly with the usual bored-looking assortment of husbands and boy friends, and some of the Hotel Creston's guests who had wandered in for want of anything better to do. One of the bellboys was asking an evening-gowned female not to smoke, and she was showing irritation. Mr. Santalucia and the little Santalucias were there as usual to see mamma perform. They waved down at Connaught.

Connaught--a dark devilish-looking little man--glanced over to the other side of the pool. The girls were coming out of the shower rooms, and their shrill conversation was blurred by the acoustics of the pool room into a continuous buzz. The air was faintly steamy. The stout party in white duck pants was Laird, coach of the Knickerbockers and Connaught's arch rival. He saw Connaught and boomed: "Hi, Louie!" The words rattled from wall to wall with a sound like a stick being drawn swiftly along a picket fence. Wambach of the A. A. U. Committee, who was refereeing, came in with his overcoat still on and greeted Laird, but the booming reverberations drowned his words before they got over to Connaught.

Then somebody else came through the door; or rather, a knot of people crowded through it all at once, facing inward, some in bathing suits and some in street clothes. It was a few seconds before Coach Connaught saw what they were looking at. He blinked and looked more closely, standing with his mouth half open.

But not for long. "Hey!" he yelled in a voice that made the pool room sound like the inside of a snare drum in use. "Protest! PROTEST! You can't do that!"