“Fishy! Hark at him!” cried Bob mockingly. “You try.”
Dexter’s mouth felt hot and dry, and laying aside what he had not eaten of his bread and cheese he followed his companion’s example, and was drawing in the cool sweet water, when he suddenly felt Bob’s hand on the back of his, neck, and before he could struggle up his head was thrust down into the water over and over again.
“Don’t, don’t!” he panted, as he thrust against the side of the boat and got free. “You shouldn’t do that.”
There was a flash of anger in his eyes as he faced Bob, and his fists were clenched, but he did not strike out, he contented himself with rubbing the water from his eyes, and then wiping his face upon his handkerchief.
“I shouldn’t do that? Why shouldn’t I do that?” said Bob threateningly. “Serve yer right, sittin’ down to bragfuss without washing yer face. Going to have any more?”
Dexter did not answer; but finished drying his face, and then took up his bread and cheese.
“Oh, that’s it, is it!” said Bob. “Sulky, eh? Don’t you come none o’ them games with me, young fellow, or it will be the worse for yer.”
Dexter made no reply, but went on eating, having hard work to swallow each mouthful.
Time back all this would not have made so much impression upon him, but the social education he had been receiving in his intercourse with Helen Grayson had considerably altered him, and his breast swelled as he felt the change in his companion, and began to wish more than ever that he had not come.
Almost as he thought this he received a curious check.