“Shall we run on deck and shoot him as he swims?” I cried.
“No,” said the boarder, “we'll get the boat-hook, and jab him if he tries to climb up.”
We rushed on deck. I seized the boat-hook and looked over the side. But I saw no one.
“He's gone to the bottom!” I exclaimed.
“He didn't go very far then,” said the boarder, “for it's not more than two feet deep there.”
Just then our attention was attracted by a voice from the shore.
“Will you please let down the gang-plank?” We looked ashore, and there stood Pomona, dripping from every pore.
We spoke no words, but lowered the gangplank.
She came aboard.
“Good night!” said the boarder, and he went to bed.