"Help! help!" he shouted, involuntarily, as well as a mouth half full of water would permit.
But there was no one in sight. Whoever had shoved him into the lake had mysteriously vanished, though a movement in the bushes told the direction of his flight.
Recovering from the shock, Bluff found that he could clamber out without much difficulty, and he hastened to do so.
His cries had been heard, however, for presently the sound of some one running wildly came to his ears, and Will burst into view.
At sight of the dripping fisherman he broke into a shout.
"Caught a Tartar, did you, and he pulled you in? Oh! what wouldn't I have just given to have been here? A snapshot of you going over would have been the finest ever."
"Shut up! It wasn't a fish at all that yanked me overboard. Somebody gave me a shove!" snapped Bluff, beginning to shiver, in spite of the fact that the air seemed unusually warm, though the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds.
"What! you were pushed in?" stammered Will; and he gathered up his camera in his arms, casting a look of alarm around, as if afraid lest some hideous form dart into view, bent on snatching it away.
"That's the truth. I was just sitting here when I heard a step. Thought it was you, and asked how you had got on. Then the beggar laughed, gave me a shove, and over I went, 'ker chunk.' I let out a yell when I came up, for you see I didn't exactly know what he might mean to do," explained the dripping one.
"And I don't blame you a bit. But didn't you see him at all?"