“Yeah, I guess so, Harry.”
“All right then, this thing works. You can swim underwater with it.”
“Not me, Harry, I can't swim. You ain't gonna make me swim under the river Harry, you ain't!” He jumped away.
“Shut up — nobody said you was.” Harry turned to peer at the corporal with shrewd speculation. “Thought you was pretty foxy, didn't you? Thought you was better'n the rest of us. Thought you'd sneak across underwater and leave the rest of us over here holding the bag. Well kid, you ain't as smart as old Harry is, 'cause you're the guy left behind. I'm just gonna take your fancy mask and you can go find another'n.”
“Harry — you ain't gonna leave us here?”
The leader stared at Sully contemptuously. “You expect me to play nursemaid all your life?”
“But Harry — what'll we do? ” he asked imploringly.
“Rot for all I care.” He reached for the man. “Take off that stuff.” He yanked the straps over Sully's head with a rough eagerness and unhooked the belt holding the breathing apparatus. Sully did his best to help, glad to skin out of the gear. It was then that Harry collided head-on with his first problem. He stood there with one foot in the water, swinging the mask in one hand and clutching the shotgun in the other. Yet he needed both hands to don the gear.
Gary grinned at his predicament.
Harry hesitated for long seconds puzzling over the situation and finally made up his mind who to trust. He crooked a finger at the silent partner standing on the bank.