In his haste, he had taken up a position too close to the edge of the bank, and as he stood on one leg while he lifted up the other to remove the leg of his trousers, he got slightly off his balance. He staggered a moment in trying to regain it, but it was no use. Over he went head first into the river, the yell of consternation that he emitted being suddenly cut short as he struck the water.
Bob, who was standing nearest him, had seen him stagger and had reached out his hand to catch him. But he had only grazed his sleeve and had all he could do to escape toppling into the water himself.
Up came Jimmy, gasping and spluttering, for as his mouth had been open when he struck the water he had swallowed a lot of it. His hair was plastered over his head, and there was a comical look of surprise and chagrin on his round face.
As he reached the bank and waded out, one leg of his trousers still clinging about him and the other trailing behind him, he presented such a ludicrous appearance that the boys fairly doubled up with laughter.
Jimmy glared at them indignantly, but this only made them laugh the more.
“That’s right, you laughing hyenas!” snorted Jimmy. “Go right ahead and cackle.”
“You’re getting your figures mixed, Jimmy,” chuckled Herb. “Hyenas don’t cackle. You’re thinking of hens.”
“I know I made a mistake,” admitted Jimmy. “I ought to have spoken of the braying of jackasses.”
“Never mind, Jimmy,” consoled Bob. “You’re not a Chinaman anyway. You weren’t the last one in.”
This seemed to bring but scant comfort to Jimmy, but he soon had plenty to occupy his mind in squeezing out his dripping clothes and spreading them in the sun to dry.