Frank started to shout to him, but suddenly realized that it might attract Hans’ attention and cause him to lose his balance, so he refrained.
“He’ll be in the water in a minute,” said Merriwell. “We must get into the wangan and pick him up.”
Then Frank, Jack and Bart hurried to man the boat and shove off. As the boat was on the wrong side of the raft, they used every exertion.
The success of the Dutch boy at the start intoxicated him.
“Who toldt you I vasn’t a rifer trifer!” he crowed to himself. “Dhis log can ride me! Yaw! Py Chorch! id peen more short than dodchin’ pullets, as dot fellers uster said. Dhis log veels shust like id couldt dance on me.”
And then he tried to cut a pigeon’s wing, or something of the sort, and, like a flash of lightning, the log shot out from under him, letting him disappear into the water with a “plump.”
When he came up he gave a howl and grabbed at the log, but it promptly-soiled over, and under he went again.
Again he came up.
“Hel-lup!” he squawked, gurglingly, again grabbing at the log.