“If so, I’ll catch it by the tail,” cried Sergey from a distance.
Grandfather stood a long time in the sunshine, feeling himself under his armpits. He went down to the water very cautiously, and before going right in, carefully wetted his bald red crown and the sunken sides of his body. He was yellow, wizened and feeble, his feet were astonishingly thin, and his back, with sharp protruding shoulder-blades, was humped by the long carrying of the organ.
“Look, grandfather Lodishkin!” cried Sergey, and he turned a somersault in the water.
Grandfather, who had now gone into the water up to his middle, sat down with a murmur of pleasure, and cried out to Sergey:
“Now, don’t you play about, piggy. Mind what I tell you or I’ll give it you.”
Arto barked unceasingly, and jumped about the shore. He was very much upset to see the boy swimming out so far. “What’s the use of showing off one’s bravery?” worried the poodle. “Isn’t there the earth, and isn’t that good enough to go on, and much calmer?”
He went into the water two or three times himself, and lapped the waves with his tongue. But he didn’t like the salt water, and was afraid of the little waves rolling over the pebbles towards him. He jumped back to dry sand, and at once set himself to bark at Sergey. “Why these silly, silly tricks? Why not come and sit down on the beach by the side of the old man? Dear, dear, what a lot of anxiety that boy does give us!”
“Hey, Serozha, time to come out, anyway. You’ve had enough,” cried the old man.
“In a minute, grandfather Lodishkin,” the boy cried back. “Just look how I do the steamboat. U-u-u-ukh!”
At last he swam in to the shore, but, before dressing, he caught Arto in his arms, and returning with him to the water’s edge, flung him as far as he could. The dog at once swam back, leaving above the surface of the water his nostrils and floating ears alone, and snorting loudly and offendedly. Reaching dry sand, he shook his whole body violently, and clouds of water flew on the old man and on Sergey.