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Updated: June 4, 2025
He waited quietly until it was over, and then repeated his request. "Ho! ho!" cackled Daddy Perkiss; "is the lad tired of livin', or kin he breathe under water like a fish?" "He's a stout hearted chap," cried Mose Hocker, "and sense his mind's bent on takin' a good long dive I reckon he kin have the boat.
Ned's hand trembled as he kept the boat in position, and Clay and Nugget exchanged frightened glances. "I knew it," cried Daddy Perkiss in a cracked voice. "That lad will never be seen again. He's gone down to meet Jonas Rudy." This ill boding prophecy had scarcely left the old man's lips, when Randy shot into view a few feet to the left of where he had disappeared.
Thus engaged the time passed quickly, and she presently awoke from a deep reverie to find that the hour Mrs. Perkiss had appointed for lunch at the inn was approaching. She rose, and began to make her way thither. The street was crowded, and her progress was slow. A motor was threading its way through the throng at a snail's pace. The persistence of its horn attracted her attention.
Half a dozen strokes brought him to the boat, and with Ned's assistance he scrambled over the side. His hands were empty. A burst of laughter came from shore, and Daddy Perkiss cried triumphantly: "Where's the gun, lad? Did you find bottom?" Randy only waved his hand in reply.
Clay and Nugget had by this time paddled out in their canoes to witness operations, and the little group on the shore were waiting in breathless silence. Randy was prepared now, and suddenly he mounted the broad stern seat, and stood on the outer edge. An audible murmur came from the shore, and Daddy Perkiss mumbled shrilly: "They're right over the middle of the Hole."
Randy was all right in a moment, and as Ned paddled across the creek, he hurriedly pulled on his clothes. When the boat landed by the rocks such a scene ensued as no pen can describe. The men crowded about Randy with eager congratulations, and fairly pumped his arms off. Mose Hocker snatched the gun and waved it triumphantly before Daddy Perkiss. "What do you think of that?" he cried.
"Which way do you want to go?" With an effort she told him, and the next moment he was leading her rapidly through the crowd. They reached the inn, and he put her into the bar parlour and went out, bellowing for Mrs. Perkiss, whom he knew. When he finally emerged, after finding the miller's wife, a slim, dark man was waiting on the further side of the road.
"I've a good mind to turn you out and sleep there myself. I'm longing to know what it feels like." "You can if you want to," he said. She shook her head. "I daren't, by myself." "I'll have my kennel underneath," he suggested. But she shook her head again, though she still laughed. "No, I mustn't. What would Mrs. Perkiss say? She has a very high opinion of me at present."
She was dressed like a gipsy in every detail, even to the scarlet kerchief on her head. She drew back a little, colouring under his scrutiny. "I hope you approve," she said. "By Jove, you look ripping!" said Rivington. "How in the world did you do it?" "I made Mrs. Perkiss help me. We managed it between us. It was just a fancy of mine to fill the idle hours.
There was two hundred feet of line in all, an' when half of it were out the men lost their grip. The rest went like greased lightnin', an' the end got coiled around Mike Berry's yaller dog, an' took it along. The poor beast never came up again." Daddy Perkiss paused for sheer want of breath, and looked around to note the effect of his story.
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