“There! What did I tell you?” he said; and then with his next step he caught at his companion’s hand and went down to his chin.
The result was that Pen lost his balance, and the pair, half-struggling, half-swimming for about a dozen yards, were carried swiftly along to where a patch of rock showed itself in mid-stream with the water foaming all around.
They were swept right round against the rocks, and found bottom directly, struggling up, with the swift stream only now to their knees.
“What a hole!” cried Pen, panting a little with his exertions. “I say, you must take care, Punch.”
“Oh yes, I will take care,” said the boy, puffing and choking. “I don’t know how much water I have swallowed. But it’s all shallow now, and we are half-over. How about your cartridges? Mine’s all wet.”
“Then I suppose mine are too,” said Pen.
“Never mind,” cried Punch cheerfully. “Perhaps they will be all right if we lay them out to dry in the sun. Now then, are you ready? It looks as if it will be all shallow the rest of the way.”
“I sha’n’t trust it,” said Pen, “so let’s keep hold of hands.”
They started again, yielding a little to the stream, and wading diagonally for the bank on Punch’s left, but making very slow progress, for Pen noted that the water, which was rough and shallow where they were, seemed to flow calmly and swiftly onward a short distance away, and was evidently deep.
“Steady! Steady!” cried Pen, hanging away a little towards the bank from which they had started.