"Oh, I can't jump in like you do," said the other; "it gives me the headache."

"Why, you're afraid."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Come in, or I'll pull you down."

"There!"

The boy jumped in feet first, and as soon as he came up he struggled to the bank, and puffed and panted and squeezed the water out of his hair.

"Oh my, isn't it jolly cold!" he cried. "It takes all my breath away."

"Cold!" cried the others; "it's lovely. Here you, Dennison, come in."

"I can't swim," I said, feeling a curious shrinking on the one side, quite a temptation on the other.

"And you never will," cried George Day, "if you don't try. It's so easy: look here!"

He swam a few yards with the greatest ease, turned round, and began swimming slowly back.

"Go on--faster," I cried, for I was interested.

"Can't," he cried, "tide runs so sharp. If I didn't mind I should be swept right away. Come in. I'll soon teach you."

I shook my head.

"Oh, you are a fellow. Come on."

"No, I sha'n't bathe," I said in a doubtful tone.

"Oh, here's a chap! I say isn't he a one! Always tied to his mother's ap.r.o.n-string: can't play cricket, or rounders, or football, and can't swim. I say, isn't he a molly."

The others laughed, and being now out of their misery, as they termed it, they were splashing about and enjoying the water, but neither of them went far from the bank.

"I say, why don't you come in?" cried the boy who jumped in feet first.

"You will like it so."

"Yes: come along, and try to swim. I can take five strokes. Look here."

I watched while the boy went along puffing and panting, and making a great deal of splashing.

"Get out!" said the other; "he has got one leg on the ground. This is the way to learn to swim. Look here, Dennison, my father showed me."

I looked, and he waded out three or four yards, till the water was nearly over his shoulders.

"Oh, I say, isn't the tide strong!" he cried. "Now, then, look."

He threw up his arms, joined his hands as he stood facing me, made a sort of jump and turned right over, plunging down before me, his legs and feet coming right out, and then for some seconds there was a great deal of turmoil and splashing in the muddy water, and he came up close to the bank.

"That's the way," he cried, panting. "You have to try to get to the bottom, and that gives you confidence."

"I didn't learn that way," shouted George Day. "See me float!"

We all looked, and he turned over on his back, but splashed a good deal to keep himself up. Then all at once he went under, and my heart seemed to stand still, but he came up again directly, shaking his head and spitting.

"Tread water!" he cried; and he seemed to be wading about with difficulty.

"Is it deep there?" I shouted.

"Look," he cried; and raising his hands above his head he sank out of sight, his hands disappearing too, and then he was up again directly and swam to the bank.

"I wish I could swim like you do," I said, looking at him with admiration.

"Well, it's easy enough," he said. "Come along."

"Shall I?"

"Yes. Why, what are you afraid of? n.o.body ever comes down here except us boys who want a bathe. Slip off your clothes and have a good dip.

You're sure to like it."

"But I've never been used to it," I protested.

"Then get used to it," he cried. "I say, boys, he ought to learn, oughtn't he?"

"Yes," cried the others. "Let's get out and make him."

"Oh, I don't want any making," I said proudly. "But I say--is it dangerous?"

"Dangerous! Hark at him! Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Day. "Why, what are you afraid of? There, jump out of your jacket. I sha'n't stop in much longer, and I want to give you a lesson."

"He's afraid," shouted the other two boys.

"Am I! You'll see," I said st.u.r.dily; and, feeling as if I were going to do something very desperate, and with a curious sensation of dread coming all over me, even to the roots of my hair, I rapidly undressed and went to the edge.

"Hooray!" shouted Day. "Now, look here: you can jump in head first, which is the proper way, or sneak in toes first, like they do. Show 'em you aren't afraid. They daren't jump in head first. Come on; I'll take care you don't come up too far out, as you can't swim."

"Would it matter if I did?" I said excitedly.

"Get along with you! no," cried Day.

I hesitated, for the water looked very dreadful, and in spite of the burning sunshine it seemed cold. I felt so helpless too, and would gladly have run back to my clothes and dressed, instead of standing on the brink of the river.

"In with you," shouted Day, backing away from the bank, and the other two boys stood a little way off, with the water up to their chests, grinning and jeering.

"He daren't."

"He's afraid."