“You did,” said Macey.
“Nonsense; we all did.”
“No; we two didn’t dive down in the black pool, and fetch him up. Oh, I say, Vane, what a day! If this is coming out for pleasure I’ll stop at home next time. Now then, together.”
They pulled together, and by degrees lightened the boat of more and more water, till they were able to get it quite ashore, and drain out the last drops over the side. Then launching again, and replacing the oars, Macey gave his head a rub.
“We shall have to buy the miller a new boat-hook,” he said. “I suppose the iron on the end of the pole was so heavy that it took the thing down. I never saw it again. Pretty hunt I had for the sculls. I got one, but was ever so long before I could find the other.”
“You only just got to us in time,” said Vane, with a sigh; and he looked painfully in his companion’s eyes.
“Oh, I say, don’t look at a fellow like that,” said Macey. “I am sorry—I am, indeed.”
Vane was silent, but still looked at his fellow-pupil steadily.
“Don’t ever split upon me, old chap,” continued Macey; “and I’ll own it all to you. I thought it would only be a bit of a lark to give him a ducking, for he had been—and no mistake—too disagreeable for us to put up with it any longer.”
“Then you did keep on telling him which hand to pull and steered him on to the pile?”