"Somebody is down in the dock," thought Will. "Don't worry!" he shouted, "I am here."

He now heard a series of noises, some of them distinct and quite human.

Others were confused outcries.

"It's time for low tide," thought Will, and, without further reflection, down he dropped into the dark, dismal dock, landing in a bed of mud soft as ever a flounder slept on. He was conscious at once that this bed was a very yielding one, but he could not stop to calculate how far down he might sink, shouting at once, "Where are you? Sing out there!"

"M--m--moo--moo," replied the person, as if a cow in distress. "I'm hic--here--hic!"

"Drank as a fool," thought Will. "Where?"

"Hic--here--hic!"

"Hie--haec--hoc, more likely," said Will, recalling his Latin. "Stay right where you are."

"I'll stay--hic."

"Let me feel for you. O, here you are."

Will now felt of some one crouching against the stone-wall of the dock, "How did you come here?"

"Dunno--hic--but I spect I did."

"You must have walked off the wall, and the great question now is how to get back again."

"Yes--hic--that--is the question--hic--afore the house."

"Afore the dock, I should say. Whew, I believe I'm up to my thighs in mud, and if that isn't water I'm splashing in! The tide is coming in, certain.

Come, friend, we must get out of this!"

"Yes, we must all--hic."

"Must all hic? We must all get out, you mean."

"Yes, all get-hic."

"Let me think. There are stairs out of this old bog somewhere, and where are they? I declare! down at the other end, and the water is three or four feet deep there when it is dry up here. Then put on top of it or under it two or three feet of mud and you have five to six feet in all, and that is an interesting state of things to wade through. We must stay at this end of the dock; and back of Aunt Stanshy's barn, I believe, are steps. I must work him up there, and do it myself somehow, for my shouting don't bring any one."

Will had called several times for help, but there was no response. He now addressed his boozy companion:

"I must get you up out of this somehow, and work you along where the steps are. The wall is too high to boost you up here. If this isn't interesting, nigh eleven o'clock, pitch dark, down in this old dock blundering with you, drank as a fool! I feel like laughing."

"Yes--hic--you're drunk--as a--fool--and I want--to--hic--laugh--he--he--he!"

Will did really laugh now. It seemed so funny there at that hour in that place.

"But it's no laughing matter, friend, I'll tell you. O whew! Here's the water half a foot deep all around us! Come now, lift up your feet and come with me. Make an effort now."

The man rallied his strength so effectively to make this effort that he lost his balance, and stumbling against Will, pitched him over.

"Look--look out--friend!" roared Will, as he floundered in mud and water.

"Can't you do better than that?"

"Besht--hic--I can do for you. Might try it again--hic."

"O, thanks--thanks. Be contented with that trial. There is my boot, stuck fast in the mud, and let her go. Come, friend, make an effort to get along. Stick close to the wall and work your way on, and lean on me.

There, you did splendidly then. Try again! There, there! Easy now. O scissors, there goes my other boot! The next thing will be that I shall get my legs in for good, and by to-morrow morning early the water will be over us all. Come, friend, you don't want to get drowned. Pull away!

Steady there! Move on! We are making progress, you see. Again, there! On she goes! Hem--now, once more! All together! There we are!"

There came a series of such trials, and finally Will shouted, "Must be almost there--and--" b.u.mp they went against the stone wall at the upper end of the dock.

"Three cheers, friend!"

"Hip--hip--hip--"

"No matter about giving them. Now we will work along to some steps back of a barn. Careful!"

When the steps had been reached Will exclaimed, "So far, so good, friend."

"Yes--hic--I'm glad--I've--hic--got you--hic--so far safe--hic."

"Got me? You have my thanks. Well, now, you stay here by these steps until I come for you. I will fetch a light. Stay here, now."

"I will--hic."

Will felt his way along the base of the wall until he came to the lane.

The stones in the wall were smooth with the slime acc.u.mulating there for years, and it was hard work to get his feet out of the mud, and very hard then to get them up and over the wall. He succeeded though, and grasping a rail-fence and mounting it, dropped down into the lane.

"Glad to touch solid ground," thought Will, "though I be in my stocking-feet."

He hurried to Aunt Stanshy's door, which had been left unlocked for his admittance, and opening it, stepped upon the entry oil-cloth.

"Tick--tick! Who comes here?" the old clock now seemed to say, loudly, solemnly ticking.

"How I shall muddy this sacred floor! Can't help it, though! Aunt Stanshy," he now began to call; at the same time he rapped on the bal.u.s.ter. "Aunt Stanshy!"

He looked up and saw the light from the lamp that she kept burning at night. Soon there was the sound of a stirring, and a tall figure in white bent over the railing. A second and smaller statue of snow was there in a moment, leaning over the railing by the side of Aunt Stanshy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to trouble you, but I've just come from the dock, and--"

"Why, you look like a mud-turtle," said Aunt Stanshy, bending over still farther and holding out the lamp, whose light fell on Will.

"Mud-turtle? I don't wonder you say so, and there's another and worse-looking one out in the dock."

"Two mud-turtles? What do you mean? Where _have_ you been?"

"I mean this; I was coming home and heard some one calling for help, and ran to the dock and saw--no, I couldn't _see_ a barley-corn before my nose--but I knew somebody was down there, and without thinking--"