“No good,” he said. “We must go back.”
“Pity I’m not a circus lady. Then I might have balanced myself gracefully on the top of your head.”
He murmured something indistinctly, but Cynthia fancied she caught the words:
“You’re a dear, anyhow.”
“What did you say?” she asked.
“It is high time we were out of here,” he answered, turning his back to the pressure of water, which was very great in that place.
“What will happen if there are two channels, and we have pitched on a bank in the middle?”
“I must walk about a bit until I find the right track. The Wye is not very deep at this point. It must shelve rapidly in one direction or the other.”
“But it mayn’t.”
“In that event I shall lower you into the water, ask you to hold tight to my coat collar with both hands, and let me swim. It is only a few yards.”