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fisherman, with both hands to his mouth, was yelling in heart-rending accents for a barrel. "He--he--push--pushed me in," gasped the choking Mr. Turnbull. Nobody paid any attention to him; even Venia, seeing that he was safe, was on her knees by the side of the unconscious Blundell. "He--he's shamming," bawled the neglected Mr. Turnbull. "Shame!" said somebody, without even looking round. "He pushed me in," repeated Mr. Turnbull. "He pushed me in." "Oh, father," said Venia, with a scandalised glance at him, "how can you?" "Shame!" said the bystanders, briefly, as they, watched anxiously for signs of returning life on the part of Mr. Blundell. He lay still with his eyes closed, but his hearing was still acute, and the sounds of a rapidly approaching barrel trundled by a breathless Samaritan did him more good than anything. "Good-bye, Venia," he said, in a faint voice; "good-bye." Miss Turnbull sobbed and took his hand. "He's shamming," roared Mr. Turnbull, incensed beyond measure at the faithful manner in which Blundell was carrying out his instructions. "He pushed me in." There was an angry murmur from the bystanders. "Be reasonable, Mr. Turnbull," said the sergeant, somewhat sharply. "He nearly lost 'is life over you," said the stout fisherman. "As plucky a thing as ever I see. If I 'adn't ha' been 'andy with that there line you'd both ha' been drownded." "Give--my love--to everybody," said Blundell, faintly. "Good-bye, Venia. Good-bye, Mr. Turnbull." "Where's that barrel?" demanded the stout fisher-man, crisply. "Going to be all night with it? Now, two of you----" Mr. Blundell, with a great effort, and assisted by Venia and the sergeant, sat up. He felt that he had made a good impression, and had no desire to spoil it by riding the barrel. With one exception, everybody was regarding him with moist-eyed admiration. The exception's eyes were, perhaps, the moistest of them all, but admiration had no place in them. "You're all being made fools of," he said, getting up and stamping. "I tell you he pushed me over-board for the purpose." "Oh, father! how can you?" demanded Venia, angrily. "He saved your life." "He pushed me in," repeated the farmer. "Told me to look at a jelly-fish and pushed me in." "What for?" inquired Sergeant Daly. "Because--" said Mr. Turnbull. He looked at the unconscious sergeant, and the words on his lips died away in an inarticulate
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