Grip made no sign of hearing, but swam on with all his might, and as he swam with one hand, Gwyn kept on lowering his feet to try for the bottom; but the dog’s swimming was so energetic that the boy lost his balance again and again, and had a lesson in a man’s helplessness in the water.
At last, and just when a feeling of dread was beginning to freeze his nerves, Gwyn, on lowering his legs, touched the rock, and giving an angry drag at the kerchiefs to check the dog, he regained his feet, and found the water little above his waist.
“It’s all right,” he panted. “Come on, Joe; the floor dips down there, and you’re nearly in the deepest part, I think. I don’t suppose you’ll have to swim. I shouldn’t if this wretch of a dog had not pulled me over.”
Joe waded on very slowly and cautiously, finding his companion’s words quite correct, and that, after just keeping his mouth above water, the level sank during the next few paces to his chin, then to his chest, and soon after to his waist, after which he easily reached his dripping companion.
“Nice mess, isn’t it?” said Gwyn. “I wish old Sam Hardock was in it—pretending that the mine was pumped out. Will you be quiet, Grip? There, get on! It’s all right if we’re going in the proper direction;” and then, after wading on about a couple of hundred yards with the water still falling, Grip was able to walk, and uttering a joyous bark, he splashed along for a little way, and then stopped short, and gave himself a regular canine water-distributing shake which made him seem as if about to throw off his skin.
“Look at that,” cried Gwyn now. “Only just wet above one’s shoes.”
Another fifty yards and they were upon the dry rocky floor, which they liberally bedewed with the water which trickled from their clothes as they were hurried on by the dog, who strained more than ever at his leash.
“It must be a good sign for him to tug like this,” said Gwyn.
“Yes; he seems to know the way. It’s of no use to try and stop him, for we know that we were all wrong, and perhaps he’s right.”
“Yes; look at him,” said Gwyn; “there can’t be a doubt about it. See how he tugs to get along.”