“Save him! Save him! Whoever he is, save him!” Charles cried. “Get George’s rope, and throw it out to him!”
He and Stephen made a rush for it, and stumbled over each other, but finally managed to get all but a few inches of it into the water. There their rescuing ceased.
Mr. Herriman, whose feet touched bottom, floundered and sputtered about in the water like a madman. He could easily have made his way to the shore, but apparently he had lost his wits. Every other second he gave utterance to some pithy interjection. Doubtless he would have yelled continually; but every time he opened his mouth a small cupful of water and animalcules poured down his throat, and well-nigh choked him.
A panic seized upon the boys, and although chattering and gesticulating like monkeys, they were powerless to help him. And so Bob struggled in the river, in some danger of being drowned.
But a deliverer was at hand. Carlo awoke to what was going on, and, more sensible than the boys, plunged into the river, and an instant later was beside demoralized Bob. He caught first his coat, then his pants, then his coat again, Bob insanely striking him off each time.
The truth is, it galled the boy to be rescued by Tip’s successor.
The noble dog persevered in his efforts, however, and Bob, eventually seeing the folly of resisting, suffered himself to be towed to the bank.
Then the brave boys exerted themselves, and succeeded in hauling bewildered Robert Herriman on shore.
His first act betrayed his cowardly nature.
“Get out, you brute!” he said, and struck the gallant dog which had just saved him, and which stood by, wagging his tail to express his delight.