“Get out!” he said. “I shouldn’t be such a fool. There, go on then by yourself. Don’t go where it’s more than up to your chin.”
“Oh, no!” I said, stooping and rising, and letting the water, as it ran swiftly, send a curious cold thrill all over me. And then, as I began cautiously to wade about, panting, and with my breath coming in an irregular manner, there was a very pleasurable sensation in it all. First I began to notice how firm and close and heavy the water felt, and how it pressed against me. Then I began to think of how hard it was to walk, the water keeping me back; and directly after, as I stepped suddenly in a soft place all mud, which seemed to ooze up between my toes, the water came to my shoulders, and I felt as if I were being lifted from my feet.
“I say how do you like it?” cried Day, who was swimming a few yards away.
“I don’t know,” I panted. “I think I like it.”
“Oh, you’ll soon think it glorious,” he replied. “You’ll love it as soon as you can swim.”
The other two had waded on for some distance against the current, taking no further interest in me now I had made my plunge.
“I should like to swim,” I said.
“Oh it’s easy enough once you get used to it. That chap down below there swims twice as well as I can, but I don’t know who he is.”
“What shall I do first?” I asked.
“Oh, throw yourself flat on the water, and kick out your arms and legs like I do—like a frog. You’ll soon learn. Now I’m going to swim up as far as they are, and then let myself float back. You’ll see me come down. It’s so easy. You watch.”