"You 'aven't looked," ses Mr. Cutts; "walk about more; you can't expect
to find it all at once. Try the middle."

Lewis tried the middle, and 'e stood there up to 'is neck, feeling about
with his foot and saying things out loud about Bob Pretty, and other
things under 'is breath about Mr. Cutts.

"Well, I'm going off 'ome," ses Bob Pretty, getting up. "I'm too
tender-'arted to stop and see a man drownded."

"You stay 'ere," ses Mr. Cutts, catching 'old of him.

"Wot for?" ses Bob; "you've got no right to keep me 'ere."

"Catch 'old of 'im, Joe," ses Mr. Cutts, quick-like.

Smith caught 'old of his other arm, and Lewis left off trying to find the
sack to watch the struggle. Bob Pretty fought 'ard, and once or twice 'e
nearly tumbled Mr. Cutts into the pond, but at last 'e gave in and lay
down panting and talking about 'is loryer. Smith 'eld him down on the
ground while Mr. Cutts kept pointing out places with 'is finger for Lewis
to walk to. The last place 'e pointed to wanted a much taller man, but
it wasn't found out till too late, and the fuss Keeper Lewis made when 'e
could speak agin was terrible.

"You'd better come out," ses Mr. Cutts; "you ain't doing no good. We
know where they are and we'll watch the pond till daylight--that is,
unless Smith 'ud like to 'ave a try."