“What, to swim? You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Gayford, seizing his friend by main force.
“I tell you it’s our only chance,” cried Bowler. “Let go, do you hear?”
“No, I won’t, old man. We must make the best of it. It’ll be more like New Swishford than ever now.”
This last argument had more effect with Bowler than any other, and he slowly put on his coat.
“I vote we souse that idiot, Tubbs, till he’s black in the face,” said Crashford viciously.
“What’s the use of that?” asked Bowler. “The fact is, you fellows,” said he, “we’re regularly in for it now, and the sooner we make up our minds what we shall do the better.”
“Let’s make a waft,” said Braintree, mindful of his Wobinson Cwusoe.
“Where’s your wood?” asked Wallas.
“Let’s hoist a signal, anyhow,” said Wester.
“No one to see it if you do,” said Wallas.