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Podington held his hands above the water as he drove, but he soon found this awkward, and dropped them to their usual position, so that nothing was visible above the water but the head and neck of a horse and the heads and shoulders of two men. Now the submarine equipage came to a low place in the bottom, and even Mr. Buller shuddered as the water rose to his chin.
"No," said Podington, "he isn't an ox; but perhaps I can stop him." And with as much voice as he could summon, he called out: "Whoa!" and the horse stopped. "If you can't steer him any other way," said Buller, "we must get the reins. Lend me your whip." "I have dropped that too," said Podington; "there it floats."
The despairing Podington looked at his feet. "It's coming in," he said in a husky voice. "Thomas, the water is over my shoes!" "That is so," said Buller. "I am so used to water I didn't notice it. She leaks. Do you carry anything to bail her out with?" "Bail!" cried Podington, now finding his voice. "Oh, Thomas, we are sinking!" "That's so," said Buller; "she leaks like a sieve."
The weight of the running-gear and of the two men was entirely too much for the buoyancy of the wagon body. The water rapidly rose toward the top of its sides. "We are going to drown!" cried Podington, suddenly rising. "Lick him! Lick him!" exclaimed Buller. "Make him swim faster!" "There's nothing to lick," cried Podington, vainly lashing at the water, for he could not reach the horse's head.
"William!" he screamed, "he is running away with us; we shall be dashed to pieces! Can't you get forward and cast off that line?" "What do you mean?" cried Podington, as the boom gave a great jerk as if it would break its fastenings and drag him overboard. "I mean untie the tow-line. We'll be smashed if you don't! I can't leave this tiller.
Besides, there was another reason, connected with the desire of horses to reach their homes, which prompted his return. But he had not forgotten his compact with his friend, and in the course of a week he wrote to Podington, inviting him to spend some days with him. Mr. Podington was a man of honor, and in spite of his recent unfortunate water experience he would not break his word. He went to Mr.
Podington was desperately afraid of the water, and he was particularly afraid of any craft sailed by an amateur.
And look here, William," he added, "it seems to me we are much more likely to take cold in our wet clothes if we rush through the air in this way. Really, it seems to me that horse is running away." "Not a bit of it," cried Podington. "He wants to get home, and he wants his dinner. Isn't he a fine horse? Look how he steps out!" "Steps out!" said Buller, "I think I'd like to step out myself.
"You see," said Buller, "it won't do to sail straight across, because the current would carry us down and land us below that spot." Mr. Podington said not a word; he expected every moment to see the horse sink into a watery grave. "It isn't so bad after all, is it, Podington? If we had a rudder and a bit of a sail it would be a great help to the horse. This wagon is not a bad boat."
In a few seconds the upper part of Mr. Buller rose from the water. He was dripping and puffing, and Mr. Podington could not but think what a difference it made in the appearance of his friend to have his hair plastered close to his head. "I got hold of one of them," said the sputtering Buller, "but it was fast to something and I couldn't get it loose." "Was it thick and wide?" asked Podington.
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