The children, however, were not quiet long.
“Hi, Rover, fetch it, good dog!” cried out Bob presently, pitching the stick into the water that laved the base of the sloping rampart. “Fetch it out, sir; fetch it.”
Rover raced, slipping and sliding, down the slope, plunging in with an impetus that sent him souse in head and ears under the surface; but, he soon re-appeared to view and, swimming out to where the stick floated, gripped it valiantly and made his way back to the shore, holding it in his mouth crosswise.
Now, however, poor Rover experienced more trouble in climbing out than he had probably anticipated; for, it being deep water at the foot of the ramparts and the stones being slippery, as the animal got his fore-paws on the stonework and tried to raise his hind legs, back he would slip again into the sea.
“Poor fellow!” said Bob. “Why, he can’t get up. I will go and help him.”
So saying, he began to clamber down the slope.
“Stop, boy, stop!” cried the Captain excitedly. “You will fall in!”
“Come back, Bob, come back!” screamed Nellie and her aunt together. “Come back!”
But, hardly able to keep his footing, it was out of Bob’s power either to arrest his rapid descent of the downward slope or to retrace his steps.
The very cries of warning, indeed, of those above brought about the result they sought to prevent; for, looking up and waving his hand to reassure them, Bob all at once lost his footing, rolling over and plunging into the water right on top of Rover, his yell of dismay being echoed by a howl of pain from the dog.