reach, and the boat rocked so
suddenly from his rising, that he sat down by mistake again, with a
violent plump that made his teeth gnash, in his own place; and the shock
and his alarm stimulated his anger.

'Hold on, Sir; hold on, you little devil, I say, one minute,
here--hold--hollo!'

While Cluffe was shouting these words, and scrambling forward, Puddock
was crying--

'Curth it, Cluffe, quick--oh! hang it, I can't thtand it--bleth my
_thoul_!

And Puddock let go, and the boat and its precious freightage, with a
horrid whisk and a sweep, commenced its seaward career in the dark.

'Take the oars, Sir, hang you!' cried Cluffe.

'There are no oarth,' replied Puddock, solemnly.

'Or the helm.'

'There'th no helm.'

'And what the devil, Sir?' and a splash of cold water soused the silken
calves of Cluffe at this moment.

'Heugh! heugh!--and what the devil _will_ you do, Sir? you don't want to
drown me, I suppose?' roared Cluffe, holding hard by the gunwale.

'_You_ can thwim, Cluffe; jump in, and don't mind me,' said little
Puddock, sublimely.

Cluffe, who was a bit of a boaster, had bragged, one evening at mess,
of his swimming, which he said was famous in his school days; 'twas a
lie, but Puddock believed it implicitly.

'Thank you!' roared Cluffe. 'Swim, indeed!--buttoned up this
way--and--and the gout too.'

'I say, Cluffe, save the guitar, if you can,' said Puddock.

In reply, Cluffe cursed that instrument through his teeth, with positive
fury, and its owner; and, indeed, he was so incensed at this unfeeling
request, that if he had known where it was, I think he would have gone
nigh to smash it on Puddock's head, or at least, like the 'Minstrel
Boy,' to tear its chords asunder; for Cluffe was hot, especially when he
was frightened. But he forgot--though it was hanging at that moment by a
pretty scarlet and gold ribbon about his neck.

'Guitar be _diddled_!' cried he; ''tis gone--where _we're_ going--to the
bottom. What devil possessed you, Sir, to drown us this way?'

Puddock sighed. They were passing at this moment the quiet banks of the
pleasant meadow of Belmont, and the lights twinkled from the bow-window
in the drawing-room. I don't know whether Puddock saw them--Cluffe
certainly did not.

'Hallo! hallo!--a rope!' cried Cluffe, who had hit upon this desperate
expedient for raising the neighbourhood. 'A rope--a rope! hallo!
hallo!--a ro-o-o-ope!'

And Aunt Becky, who heard the wild whoop