“No, you’re not,” cried Bald fiercely; “you’re coming with us. Come along. He will not sink.”
“I shan’t come!” said Alfred sturdily.
“What? Here, boys, let’s fetch him out.”
There was a rush made towards where the boy stood knee-deep, and he snatched his hand free from the monk’s grasp, turned half-round, stooped a little, and as his eldest brother came wading in among the reeds he scooped up the water and saluted him with a heavy shower right in the face, drenching him so that he turned tail and hurried back, the other two laughingly backing out of reach.
“Oh, you!” shouted. Bald. “Come out, or I’ll hold you right under the water till you can’t breathe.”
“Come along then,” cried Alfred boldly, and he sent another shower of water after his brother, wetting him behind now. “You’ll be just as wet as I shall first.”
“You come out!”
“I shan’t! You come here, if you dare!”
“Come and help me, boys,” cried Bald; but the others only laughed.
“Come yourself, if you dare! Father Swythe will help me, and we’ll duck you.”