“I never felt like that before. I was going to swim, but the eel had gone about my legs, and as soon as I felt the line round them, and that horrid great thing twining it all over me, I tried hard to kick it off; but you haven’t got much strength in the water, and then, as I felt that I couldn’t get my legs clear, I came over all queer, and so horribly frightened that I couldn’t do anything. It was just like having a dream in the night, after eating too much cake.”
“It was very horrible,” I said, with a shiver at the recollection, though I was beginning to feel warm.
“Yes, wasn’t it? I say, don’t go and think me a coward, there’s a good chap.”
“I was not going to think you a coward,” I said. “It isn’t likely.”
“But I must have seemed like one, because I can swim ever so far, but when I found myself like that, all the strength went out of me.—I say!”
“Yes?” I said, for he remained silent, and trudged on, looking hard at the ground.
“I did like you for paying at Polly Hopley’s, and I said I’d do anything for you, but I can’t tell you what I feel now, for your helping me.”
“Don’t wish you to tell me,” I replied. “Come along. I want to get on some dry things.”
“But—”
“Hold your tongue,” I said. “There’s some one coming.”