“Give me your hand, my lad,” he cried, hoarsely; and as I lay there, I stretched out my hand to have it seized, while I watched Quong coming nearer, splashing up the water now and sending the spray flying as he strained forward to get hold of Gunson.
For a few moments we both thought he was gone, for he had glided down till the water was over his ankles, and still, as he reached out, he was a few inches from Gunson’s grasp, while for him to have moved would have been fatal; but he made one more effort, hooking his fingers over Gunson’s, and then there was another jerk, the bundle came over on to me, and as our friend made a violent muscular effort to throw himself back, the little Chinaman was dragged right over on to firm ground.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
How we found out a Puzzle.
“Ah!” said Quong, getting up and shaking his legs; “got velly wet.”
“You stupid fellow! you nearly lost your life,” said Gunson, angrily.
“Lose life?” said Quong, looking puzzled; “who lose life? Don’t know.”
“There, go on up and take the pack. Can you climb up, my lad?”