I did, and I conquered, for I know that not a single complaint afterwards escaped my lips.
And higher still rose the black, gold-spangled water over our ankles, creeping chilly and numbing up our legs, and we knew that before long the effort would have to be made to reach the great black mound of boughs which we could dimly see a short distance away.
“How far do you think it is from daybreak, Morgan?” said my father suddenly, after what seemed to me a terrible time of suspense.
“Don’t know, sir. Daren’t guess at it,” said Morgan, despondently. “Time has gone so slowly that it may be hours off yet.”
“No,” said my father, “it cannot be very far away. If I could feel sure I would still wait before making our attempt, but I am afraid to wait long. We are getting chilled and numb.”
“Just so, sir,” said Morgan, sadly. “You think for us all, sir, and give your orders. I’ll do my best.”
There was another pause, and I heard my father draw a deep breath, and then speak sharply—
“Well, George,” he said; “how do you feel for your swim?”
I tried to answer, but a feeling of despair choked me, as I looked across at the dark boughs, thought of the depth of water between, and that I could not swim there now.
“Oh, come, come, lad, pick up,” cried my father. “The distance is nothing. I shall want you to help me.”