“Hey! Keep on hauling there!” he roared, “what do you think I am, a sack of potatoes?”
“You feel like a sack of sash weights!” shouted Rob, “keep still now, and we’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
A few minutes later Tubby’s fat face, very red, appeared above the edge of the rift over which he had taken his abrupt plunge. Rob seized him by the shoulders and dragged him into safety.
“There now, for goodness sake don’t fall in again,” he said.
“As if you aren’t always telling me to fall in,” scoffed Tubby.
“When, pray?”
“Every time we drill,” said the stout youth solemnly, flicking some dust off his uniform with elaborate care.
Owing to the length of time occupied by extricating Tubby from his difficulties, the canoe bearers had become apprehensive of harm to the following body and had halted. Of course questions ensued when the rear guard came up.
“What happened?” demanded the major, noting the suppressed amusement on the lads’ faces.
“Oh, Tubby fell in again,” answered Merritt.