The dog did not, on this occasion, seize him and drag him in, but permitted Antony to lay hold of his collar and so be assisted or towed.
But only a week after, this athletic young Saxon had an adventure which, as it has a bearing on the progress of this 'ower true tale,' must be related in the next chapter.
CHAPTER VII.
POOR ANTONY WAS DROWNING!
THE small river or streamlet close to Antony's camp was called the Burn o' Bogie, and here in a pretty little boathouse, thatched and cosy, which Chops had built with his own hands, lay Lotty's yacht the Jenny Wren.
A seaworthy morsel of a boat it was, but certainly not broad enough in the beam for safety, though she suited Lotty very well indeed.
Nay, more, Wallace often went with his little mistress. For so very young a dog he was wondrous wise; he used to sit or lie amidships exactly in the spot where his Lotty placed a shawl for him. And Wallace must have weighed nearly nine stone, so he might easily have capsized the skiff, especially when under sail.
On such occasions Lotty would only have to say very quietly before she hauled off the sheet, 'Trim boat, Wallace,' and some instinct taught him he must keep well up towards the weaker side.
But, athlete though he was, Antony was no sailor; nevertheless he wished to be, and was glad enough to be taught even by so young a little skipper as Lotty. On fine days she took him out with her on purpose, and with a very few lessons he could manage, or thought he could, fairly well.
Well, one forenoon he rashly determined to have a little cruise all by himself.
He forgot that with Lotty in the bows the yacht was not so much down by the stern as his weight, when alone, placed it. Indeed, while sailing, if she entrusted the tiller and sheet to him, she herself—the little skipper—crept right for'ard into the bows and issued her orders from that position—orders which he took very seriously indeed, for if he had not done so the Jenny Wren might have broached-to or gone slick on her beam-ends.