“Wait, Ernest,” said Charles, “I will go over first; your donkey will certainly follow me.”
He started to go on; I put myself across the entrance to the bridge. He made me turn by dint of blows.
“All right,” said I, “if this naughty boy wishes to drown himself, let him. I did what I could to save him; let him drown if he wishes so much to do so.”
No sooner had his donkey put his foot upon the rotten board than it broke, and there was Charles and his donkey in the water!
There was no danger for my comrade, because, like all donkeys, he could swim.
Charles struggled in frantic attempts to get out. “A stick! a stick!” he cried. The children screamed and ran here and there. At last Caroline found a long stick, picked it up and gave it to Charles, who seized it; but his weight dragged down Caroline, who called out for help.
Ernest, Anthony, and Albert ran to her. At last the unhappy Charles, who had by this time got more than he bargained for, was pulled out of the water soaked from head to foot. When he was safe the children began to laugh at his doleful appearance. Charles growing angry, the children jumped upon their donkeys and advised him to return to his home to change his clothes. Dripping wet he remounted his donkey. I laughed to myself at his ridiculous appearance.
The current had swept away his hat and his shoes; the water ran in streams from his clothes; his soaked, wet hair stuck to his face, and his furious look made him a thoroughly comical sight. The children laughed; my comrades jumped and ran to express their joy. I must add that Charles’s donkey was detested by all of us, because, unlike most donkeys, he was quarrelsome, greedy, and stupid.
At last, Charles having disappeared, the children and my comrades were calmed down. Every one stroked me and admired my cleverness. We all set out again, I at the head of the party.