Now, whether Joe had taken Hartley’s whimsical instructions to “throw him into the lake” seriously or not never will be known, for the Indian is not loquacious; but it is a fact that, assisting in unloading the canoe, he bumped into Connorton at this moment, and Connorton, being close to the outer edge of the shelving rock, went backward into the water with a loud splash.
He came up spluttering and floundering like an animated bag of meal, and Hartley and Paulson quickly pulled him back on the rock. Then they rushed him to the fire.
“Got a change of clothing, Mr. Connorton?” asked Hartley, solicitously.
“Change of clothing!” sputtered Connorton. “Change of clothing here! Why don’t you ask me if I’ve got a dress suit?”
“Too bad!” commented Hartley. “I haven’t anything extra either, and it wouldn’t fit you if I had. But you’ll be all right in a blanket, I guess. Just get those wet clothes off now.”
Connorton objected. His undraped figure was something to cause laughter rather than command respect, and he had no desire to make any more of a spectacle of himself than he was already. But Hartley was insistent, Paulson urged, and the combination of wet clothing and chill night air made him shiver. So he presently found himself posing under protest as a large and rather flabby cherub.
It was not dignified. Even when Hartley draped a blanket over him, it was not dignified. He was quite sure the apparently stolid Indians were chuckling inwardly, and he distinctly heard Joe refer to him as Big Splash. If he had only known it, Joe had thus christened him and always thereafter thus referred to him. He did not know it, but, even so, it would have delighted his soul to take an ax to Joe. Never before had he had so murderous an impulse.
There could now be no serious discussion of business before morning, of course. A large, fleshy man, attired in nothing but a blanket, is not exactly in a situation to talk business to advantage. He is too much of a joke. Hartley frankly treated him as a joke, although Paulson was respectful and sympathetic.
“I am sure,” said Hartley, “that you will feel better to-morrow for your bath to-night. Just stick your little pink tootsies up to the fire—”
“Shut up!” exploded Connorton.