“‘What’s the matter?’ exclaimed Mr. Gould, anxiously. Of course he had not detected the ruse, for he knew no more about the working of a yacht than a sea cow does about differential calculus.
“‘I’m afraid we’re aground,’ replied Mr. Cruger, with a fine assumption of sadness. ‘Boys, get out the sweeps and push her off.’
“We struggled with the long oars in a great show of ardor, while Gould watched us in breathless suspense, between hope and fear. But as we had taken care to put the sweeps overboard astern, the harder we shoved the faster we stuck. The little man’s suspicions were not in the slightest degree aroused and he turned in despair to Mr. Cruger.
“‘What shall I do!’ he almost wailed. ‘I’ve got to catch that train!’
“‘Then,’ replied the joker, solemnly, ‘you’ll have to wade or swim.’
“Already the train was in sight, two miles away, and whatever was to be done had to be done quickly. As I have said, there was plenty of grit in the embryo railroad king, and quick as a wink he was out of his sable clothes and standing before us clad only in his aggressively scarlet undergarments. Holding his precious broadcloth suit above his head, he stepped into the water, which, shallow as it was, reached to the armpits of the little gentleman. Then he started for the shore, his short, thin legs working back and forth in a most comical fashion as he strove to quicken his pace. The station platform was crowded with people, and very soon the strange figure approaching them was descried. A peal of laughter from 500 throats rolled over the water to us, the ladies hiding their blushes behind parasols and fans. The men shouted with laughter. Finally the wader reached the base of the stone wall, and for a moment covered with confusion and but little else, stood upon the rock, one scarlet leg uplifted, looking for all the world like a flamingo on the shore of a Florida bayou, while the air was split with shrieks of laughter, in which we now unreservedly joined. Then came the climax of the joke, which nearly paralyzed the unfortunate victim.
“‘Haul on your sheets, boys, and up with the board!’ was Cruger’s order. As the yacht gathered headway and swept by within ten feet of the astonished Mr. Gould, we laughingly bade him good-bye, advising a warm mustard bath when he got home.
“Then his quick mind took in the full force of the practical joke that we had worked upon him, and his dark face was a study for a painter. But the train had already reached the station, taken on its passengers, and the wheels were beginning to turn again for its run to the city. As Gould scrambled up the wall, his glossy black suit still pressed affectionately to his bosom, the ‘All aboard’ had sounded and the cars were moving. Every window was filled with laughing faces, as he raced over the sand and stones, and was dragged by two brakemen onto the rear platform, panting and dripping. The last glimpse we caught of him was as the train entered the prison tunnel. Then, supported on either side by the railroad men, he was making frantic plunges in his efforts to thrust his streaming legs into his trousers, as the platform reeled and rocked beneath him.”
It was once suggested to Mr. Gould that he had been fairly successful in life, and the inquirer wanted to know if Mr. Gould wouldn’t tell the secret of it.
“There isn’t any secret,” said Mr. Gould. “I avoid bad luck by being patient. Whenever I am obliged to get into a fight I always wait and let the other fellow get tired first.”