“Yes,” cried the others. “Let’s get out and make him.”
“Oh, I don’t want any making,” I said proudly. “But I say—is it dangerous?”
“Dangerous! Hark at him! Ha—ha—ha!” laughed Day. “Why, what are you afraid of? There, jump out of your jacket. I sha’n’t stop in much longer, and I want to give you a lesson.”
“He’s afraid,” shouted the other two boys.
“Am I! You’ll see,” I said sturdily; and, feeling as if I were going to do something very desperate, and with a curious sensation of dread coming all over me, even to the roots of my hair, I rapidly undressed and went to the edge.
“Hooray!” shouted Day. “Now, look here: you can jump in head first, which is the proper way, or sneak in toes first, like they do. Show ’em you aren’t afraid. They daren’t jump in head first. Come on; I’ll take care you don’t come up too far out, as you can’t swim.”
“Would it matter if I did?” I said excitedly.
“Get along with you! no,” cried Day.
I hesitated, for the water looked very dreadful, and in spite of the burning sunshine it seemed cold. I felt so helpless too, and would gladly have run back to my clothes and dressed, instead of standing on the brink of the river.
“In with you,” shouted Day, backing away from the bank, and the other two boys stood a little way off, with the water up to their chests, grinning and jeering.