Mr. Heard ducked again, and once more emerging stumbled towards the bank.
“Pull me out,” he cried, sharply.
Mr. Dix, smiling indulgently, extended his hands, which Mr. Heard seized with the proverbial grasp of a drowning man.
“All right, take it easy, don't get excited,” said the smiling mate, “four foot of water won't hurt anyone. If—Here! Let go o' me, d'ye hear? Let go! If you don't let go I'll punch your head.”
“You couldn't save me against my will without coming in,” said Mr. Heard. “Now we can tell 'er you dived in off the quay and got me just as I was sinking for the last time. You'll be a hero.”
The mate's remarks about heroes were mercifully cut short. He was three stone lighter than Mr. Heard, and standing on shelving ground. The lat-ter's victory was so sudden that he over-balanced, and only a commotion at the surface of the water showed where they had disappeared. Mr. Heard was first up and out, but almost immediately the figure of the mate, who had gone under with his mouth open, emerged from the water and crawled ashore.
“You—wait—till I—get my breath back,” he gasped.
“There's no ill-feeling, I 'ope?” said Mr. Heard, anxiously. “I'll tell everybody of your bravery. Don't spoil everything for the sake of a little temper.”
Mr. Dix stood up and clinched his fists, but at the spectacle of the dripping, forlorn figure before him his wrath vanished and he broke into a hearty laugh.
“Come on, mate,” he said, clapping him on the back, “now let's go and find Emma. If she don't fall in love with you now she never will. My eye I you are a picture!”