“Yes, we must all—hic.”
“Must all hic? We must all get out, you mean.”
“Yes, all get-hic.”
“Let me think. There are stairs out of this old bog somewhere, and where are they? I declare! down at the other end, and the water is three or four feet deep there when it is dry up here. Then put on top of it or under it two or three feet of mud and you have five to six feet in all, and that is an interesting state of things to wade through. We must stay at this end of the dock; and back of Aunt Stanshy’s barn, I believe, are steps. I must work him up there, and do it myself somehow, for my shouting don’t bring any one.”
Will had called several times for help, but there was no response. He now addressed his boozy companion:
“I must get you up out of this somehow, and work you along where the steps are. The wall is too high to boost you up here. If this isn’t interesting, nigh eleven o’clock, pitch dark, down in this old dock blundering with you, drank as a fool! I feel like laughing.”
“Yes—hic—you’re drunk—as a—fool—and I want—to—hic—laugh—he—he—he!”
Will did really laugh now. It seemed so funny there at that hour in that place.
“But it’s no laughing matter, friend, I’ll tell you. O whew! Here’s the water half a foot deep all around us! Come now, lift up your feet and come with me. Make an effort now.”
The man rallied his strength so effectively to make this effort that he lost his balance, and stumbling against Will, pitched him over.