“Didn’t mean that—goat!” said Wally. “Anyhow, I was very much astonished to find myself suddenly kicking in the mud. Ever been in that lake? It isn’t nice. It isn’t deep enough to drown you, but the mud is a caution. I got it all over me—face and all!”
“You must have looked your best!” said Jim.
“I did. I managed to stand up, very much amazed to find I wasn’t drowned. Two of the others walked out! I was too small to do more than just manage to keep upright. The water was round my chest. I couldn’t have walked a yard.”
“How did you manage?”
“A boat came along and picked up the survivors,” grinned Wally. “They wouldn’t take us in. We were just caked with mud, so I don’t blame ’em—but we hung on to the stern, and they towed us to the shore. We were quite close to land. Then they went back and brought our boat to us. They were jolly kind chaps—didn’t seem to mind any trouble.”
“You don’t seem to have minded it, either,” said Norah.
“We were too busy laughing,” Wally said. “You have to expect these things when you go in for a life on the ocean wave. The worst part of it came afterwards, when we went home. That was really unpleasant. I was staying at my aunt’s in Toorak.”
“Did you get into a row?”
“It was unpleasant,” Wally repeated. “Aunts haven’t much sympathy, you know. They don’t like mess, and I was no end messy. We won’t talk about it, I think, thank you.” Wally rolled over on his back, produced an apple and bit into it solemnly.
“Let us respect his silence,” said Jim.