"Bridge!" sang out the steersman, and down went every head except that of the German, who sat and smoked on unmoved.
"Bridge!" The cry was repeated in louder, more emphatic tones.
"Yah, pridge, pridge!" responded the German straightening up a little, nodding his head assentingly, but not looking round.
"Bridge!" sang out the steersman for the third time, "bridge, you stupid lout! dodge or"—
But the boat was already sweeping under, and the bridge taking the German across his shoulders threw him with sudden violence to the platform below, whence he rolled over into the canal, uttering a half stifled cry for help as the water closed over him.
But he rose again instantly panting and spluttering, and striking out vigorously for the boat; he presently succeeded in laying hold of the edge of the platform, and, the steersman lending him a helping hand, clambered on board, crestfallen and dripping, while the crowd on deck, seeing him safe, indulged in a hearty laugh at his expense.
"I loss mein bipe," he said ruefully, shrugging his shoulders and shaking the water from his clothes.
"Well, you got a free bath in exchange and may be thankful you didn't lose your life," remarked the steersman with a grin. "Next time I call out bridge I guess you'll duck your head like the rest."
The rain had been falling heavily all night, but the sun shone brightly, and the clouds were flying before a high wind that blew fresh and cool from Lake Erie as the Pauline glided quietly into Cleveland.
"What a beautiful city!" exclaimed the young Keiths as they stepped ashore. "Do let us walk to the hotel, father, if it is not too far."