“Hold on there, mate!” cried the lock-keeper, “while I get your boat under.”
I had caught at a dangling loop of chain; but even so the weight of my almost senseless burden threatened to drag me down.
“Be quick!” I gasped, “I’m pretty near spent.”
With the same grapnel he caught and towed the boat, Duke still hanging to it, to where I clung, and leaped down himself into it.
“Now,” he said, “get a leg over and you’re right.”
It was a struggle even then, for Dolly would not let me out of her agonized clutch—not till we could lay her, white as a storm-beaten lily, on the bottom boards. Then we turned and seized Duke over the thwarts and he tumbled in and lay in a heap, quite exhausted.
His mind relieved, our preserver took off his cap, scratched his forehead and spat into the water.
“I’ve known a many wanting your luck,” he said, gruffly. “What made you do it, now?”
Judging our ignorance to be by no means common property, I said, “Ah, what?” in the tone that suggests acquiescence, or wonder, and asked him if he had a fire handy.
“There’s a bright one burning inside,” he said. “You’re welcome to it.”