"And that done me," said the Baker, "because I was tore out of 'er 'ands before I could ketch 'old myself. And then I gives a yell, and I just slid, and I thinks, 'Now you're done, Baker,' for I keeps on fallin' for h'ever. I guess it warn't reely far, but it seemed so, and then I was over'ead in water all of a sudden, and chokin' with sand and water at once. Of course, I strikes out blind, and swims easy, but near choked with the 'orrible scare. And the darkness was stinking thick, I never see the like, no, never. And I thinks little bits of you and Kitty over'ead, not able to 'elp me. And you may believe it or you may do the other thing, but I feels quite sorry for you. I remember, too, what a bloomin' coward I was over them pits. And I thinks of 'ome and the Mile End Road of a Saturday night. Then my 'and touches a rock; I tries to grab the thing, but it was smooth, and it 'ad nothing to hold by. Then I finds I was slipping past it easy. And mind you, h'all this time I made sure I was dead; I couldn't see h'other than that I'd drown. But when I finds the water was going, another bloomin' horror strikes me. I thinks, 'Now, am I going into another bloomin' water-pit?' I screams then, and my voice comes back on me, and a'most stuns me, I grabs at the rock, though what for I dunno, and just then I thinks, 'Why, to be sure, this is the blooming sunk river, and maybe it comes out.' So I lets up trying to 'old, and swims easy with the current. And I believe that I swum steady for years, for years, yes, and as I got tired I felt old. Oh, but it was bad, Smith. And just as I thinks I'm done, I sees that three-square 'ole of light, and afore I knowed, I was through it, and I seed the stars and the banks. I scrambled to it and clawed out a yard or so, and then I tumbles flat where you found me, you and Kitty 'ere; Gawd bless 'er and you."
He kissed Kitty, and held out his hand to his old chum.
They rose, and began their journey once more.
CHAPTER XIX.
DELIVERANCE.
They camped that night on a clear little flat, close by the river, and again Kitty found a 'possum for them to eat.
"If it hadn't been for you, Kitty, I believe we should have died of hunger long ago," said Smith. "You're a darling."
"Ain't she just," cried the Baker proudly. "Kitty, my girl, when we gets into a town, and you 'as your 'air trimmed, and gets a good dress on you, you'll be the belle of the ball, that's what you'll be."
And he explained to her in simpler language that she was very good-looking, which was indeed true, for her figure was magnificent and her walk perfect. If her feet and hands were rather big, that was nothing to the Baker, and her carriage would prevent any male critic from being severe on minor details.
"But I'm sorry for Kitty when she gets among the so-called civilized lot," said Smith. "They will be for tearing her in pieces."