"I wish I was," echoed the boy.

"Well, your head-fillin' ain't the right kind for a boss, Alcestis, an' you'd
better stick to dry land. You set right down here while I go back a piece an'
git the pipe out o' my coat pocket. I guess nothin' ain't goin' to happen for
a few minutes."

The surmise about the horses, unlike most of Old Kennebec's, proved to be
true. Benson's pair had gone to Portland with a load of hay; accordingly the
tackle was brought, the rope was adjusted to a log, and five of the drivers,
standing on the river-bank, attempted to drag it from its intrenched position.
It refused to yield the fraction of an inch. Rufus and Stephen joined the five
men, and the augmented crew of seven were putting all their strength on the
rope when a cry went up from the watchers on the bridge. The "dog" had
loosened suddenly, and the men were flung violently to the ground. For a
second they were stunned both by the surprise and by the shock of the blow,
but in the same moment the cry of the crowd swelled louder. Alcestis Crambry
had stolen, all unnoticed, to the rope, and had attempted to use his feeble
powers for the common good. When the blow came he fell backward, and, making
no effort to control the situation, slid over the bank and into the water.

The other Crambrys, not realizing the danger, laughed audibly, but there was
no jeering from the bridge.

Stephen had seen Alcestis slip, and in the fraction of a moment had taken off
his boots and was coasting down the slippery rocks behind him; in a twinkling
he was in the water, almost as soon as the boy himself.

"Doggoned idjut!" exclaimed Old Kennebec, tearfully. "Wuth the hull
fool-family! If I hed n't 'a' be'n so old, I'd 'a' jumped in myself, for you