“Come and help me pull up the anchor then,” said John.
“I’m your man,” cried George. “You know I’m always looking for work.”
“I’ve noticed that,” laughed Grant. “You’re always looking for work so that you’ll know what places to keep away from.”
Four light hearted young campers were now on board the Balsam. In spite of their words a few moments before not one of them had lost his temper. They knew each other too well and were far too sensible not to be able to take a joke. Outsiders, listening to their conversation, might have thought them angry at times, but such was never the case.
“Get your back in it there,” shouted Grant gayly to John and George who were busily engaged in hauling in the anchor chain. George stood close to the bow with John directly behind him as hand-over-hand they pulled in the wet, cold chain.
“This deck is getting slippery,” exclaimed George. “All this water that has splashed up here from the chain has made it so I can scarcely keep my feet.”
“I should say so,” agreed John earnestly and as he spoke one foot slid out from beneath him. He lurched heavily against his companion, and George thrown completely off his balance, waved his arms violently about his head in an effort to save himself, but all to no avail. He fell backward and striking the water with a great splash disappeared from sight.