A moment’s pause, and then—
“Mr Rodd! Ahoy!”
“Here, Joe, here!” came in half-suffocated tones.
“Wheer, my lad?” cried the man excitedly.
“Here! Here! Help!”
“But where’s yer here, lad? I can’t see you.—Can any of you? Oh, look alive, some on you! Get hold of the boy anywhere—arms or legs or anything—and hold on like grim death.”
There was a sharp rustling of leaves and twigs which pretty well drowned Rodd’s answer—
“I’m down here.”
“Where’s down here, my lad? Are you under the boat?”
“No, no. Hanging to a bough, with the water up to my chest, and something’s tugging at me to drag me away.”