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THE COMING OF THE STORM
115

"Shut up! It wasn't a fish at all that yanked me overboard. Somebody gave me a shove!" snapped Bluff, beginning to shiver, in spite of the fact that the air seemed unusually warm, though the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds.

"What! you were pushed in?" stammered Will; and he gathered up his camera in his arms, casting a look of alarm around, as if afraid lest some hideous form dart into view, bent on snatching it away.

"That's the truth. I was just sitting here when I heard a step. Thought it was you, and asked how you had got on. Then the beggar laughed, gave me a shove, and over I went, 'ker chunk.' I let out a yell when I came up, for you see I didn't exactly know what he might mean to do," explained the dripping one.

"And I don't blame you a bit. But didn't you see him at all?"

"Never had a peep. He dodged back so that when I got the water out of my eyes he was gone. I saw those bushes over there moving, and knew he ran off that way."

Will walked over to the bushes, looking cautiously about, but seeing no one.

"Sure you didn't—er—go to sleep out on that