ugging and tugging away. "I'm
moving you, I'm moving you!"

So he was, but it was only so far as the weeds would allow him to go.
Tom had followed his example, and thrown himself on his back. Just then
a shout was heard, and soon afterwards Ellis caught the words he had
been himself using, "Keep up, keep up!--never fear!" He thought it was
Bracebridge's voice; so it was. He was up to them in an instant.

Now, Bracebridge, by his father's advice, never went out on any
expedition without a supply of stout twine. Producing some from his
fishing-basket, he fastened one end of it to a drooping branch of the
willow-tree, which overhung the pond, and the other on to his own rod,
and, having thrown off his clothes, he boldly plunged into the water,
knowing that the weeds would have much less power over his naked legs,
than if he had kept on his trousers. He reached poor Tom with the end
of his rod just as he was sinking. Tom grasped it convulsively, and
Ernest holding on to the part of the line made fast to the tree had
sufficient force to drag him out from among the weeds. Ernest,
meantime, told Ellis to try and get to shore, so as to be able to help
him to draw in Bouldon. Ellis was not long in doing so; and climbing up
the bank, he hauled in the line Ernest had so thoughtfully made fast to
the tree. In a short time, by careful pulling, Bouldon was hauled clear
of the weeds, and Ernest was able to take hold of his arm, and to
support him while Ellis towed them both up to the bank. By this time
Bouldon was unconscious, but, notwithstanding, he still with one hand
held fast hold of the butt-end of his rod, and the rod had evidently
something else at the other end of it. They drew him up the bank still
holding on his rod.

The change of atmosphere from the warm water of the pond, perhaps, to
the cooler air, revived him, and opening his eyes he looked up at
Bracebridge.

"You, Ernest! I thought it was Ellis. Is he safe?"

"Yes, yes; all right, old fellow!" answered Ellis.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! Then do try and get my fish on shore," were
the first words exchanged between the party when they had got safe to
land.

"It's a whacking big pike, that I know," cried Tom. "Oh! Bracebridge,
don't let him go; that's all."

"I only hope no stranger will come near and find me, like a picture in
the `Boy's Own Book,' fishing _in statu quo_," said Ernest, laughing,
"But quick, Ellis, bring the landing-net; I sha