Quicksilver: The Boy With No Skid to His Wheel

by George Manville Fenn

“Come across,” said Bob coolly.

“Come across—in the dark!”

“Why, of course. You ain’t afraid, are you? Well, you are a chap!”

“But it’s too deep to wade.”

“Well, who said it wasn’t!” growled the boy. “You can swim, can’t you?”

“But I shall get so wet.”

“Yah!” ejaculated Bob in tones of disgust. “You are a fellow. Take your clothes off, make ’em in a bundle, and swim over.”

Dexter was half-disposed to say, “You swim across to me,” but nothing would have been gained if he had, so, after a few minutes’ hesitation, and in genuine dread, he obeyed the wishes of his companion, but only to pause when he was half-undressed.

“I say, though,” he whispered, “can’t you get the boat? It’s so cold and dark.”

“Well, you are a fellow!” cried Bob. “Beginning to grumble afore we start. It’s no use to have a mate who’s afraid of a drop of water, and don’t like to get wet.”