She jumped down into the muddy pit, and set herself to unscrew the tap. It was not very easy, but she managed it at last; and then, with the thing in her hand, remained in her crouching attitude, examining it to see if there was any obstruction.
There was a sound like a deep sigh—a rush like heavy rain—a jet of yellow water flew from the pipe, hit the opposite side of the pit with great violence, and before she knew what had happened, she was over her ankles in water. In a calmer moment, she would have scaled the miry sides of the pit, regardless of appearances; but she was not calm, and she lost her head. The unexpected nature of the thing scared her—she had the idea that if once she let the pit fill, they would be unable to stop the flow; and so, with a spring, she flung herself upon the pipe, clasping her two hands rigidly about it, and stanching the most part of the rush. But the strength of the pulsing water was great, her footing slimy, her purchase feeble. Raising her voice, regardless of all but the emergency, she cried aloud:
"Bert! Bert! Bert! Quick!"
He had only just dismissed Alfred on his errand, and was hurrying back, when that sound smote his ear. He broke into a laugh of pure joy as he heard it, but he ran with all his might.
The moment he got to the brink of the pit, he saw what was happening; and he, too, lost his head. Instead of calling to her to let go, and holding down his hands to draw her up, at the expense of a drenching, he forthwith sprang down, placed himself beside her, and locked his hands over hers.
The fact of his doing this bereft her of all power of speech.
She was totally unconscious of having called him by name; she did not know the reason of his kindled, glowing look. Neither, for a few long-drawn seconds, considered what was to be done. They simply stood there, so acutely conscious of each other that nothing else in all the universe seemed real.
She was the first to recall her scattered wits.
"Oh, this is too ridiculous," she said faintly. "We can't hold on! We can't hold on!"
"Just long enough for Alfred to get back," he whispered. "He can't be ten minutes. He can have the thing ready to screw on, and save you a deluge—"