"Let's hustle," urged Billy. "They may come back any minute."
They ran quickly up the valley, Billy unfastening his few garments as they ran. By the time Billy had reached the bend he was in readiness for the swim across. Without a thought of the long leeches—"blood-suckers" the boys called them—which lay on the oozy bottom of the creek's shallows ready to fasten on the first bare foot that came their way, he waded out toward the channel.
"Bill, watch out!" warned Maurice. "There's a big womper coiled on that lily-root. You're makin' right fer it."
"I see it," returned Billy. "I guess I ain't scared of no snakes in these parts."
"But this beggar is coiled," cried his friend. "If he strikes you, he'll rip you wide open with his horny nose. Don't go, Bill."
"Bah! he's uncoilin', Maurice; he'll slip off, see if he don't. There, what did I tell you?" as the long mottled snake slid softly into the water. "You can't tell me anythin' 'bout wompers."
"But what if a snappin'-turtle should get hold of your toe?" shuddered Maurice.
"Shut up!" Billy commanded. "Do you want them Sand-sharks to hear you? You keep still now, I'm goin' after our punt."
Billy was out in mid stream now, swimming with swift, noiseless strokes toward the boat. Just as he reached it the willows along shore parted and two boys, both larger than himself, made a leap for the punt. Billy threw himself into the boat and as the taller of the two jumped for it his fist shot out and caught him fairly on the jaw. He toppled back half into the water. Billy seized the paddle and swung it back over his shoulder. The other boy halted in his tracks. Another moment and the punt was floating out in midstream.
LaRose had crawled to shore and sat dripping and sniffling on the bank.