Heathcote was ready in a trice. Gosse looked uncomfortable.
“I’m not going in again,” he said; “I’ve got a cold.”
“Yes, you are,” replied Birket; “I’ll help you.”
This threat was quite enough for the discomfited junior, who slowly divested himself of his garments.
“Now then! plenty of room for both of you on the board.”
“No,” said Gosse; “I’ve not got any cotton wool for my ears. I don’t care about going in off the board unless I have.”
“That’s soon remedied,” said Swinstead, producing some wool from his pocket and proceeding to stuff it into each of the boy’s ears.
Poor Gosse was fairly cornered, and took his place on the board beside Heathcote, the picture of discontent and apprehension.
“Now then, once across and back. Are you ready?” said Birket, seating himself beside his friend on a ledge.
“No,” said Gosse, looking down at the water and getting off the board.