It was no sae very deep, but the grass and the weeds were verra thick, andthey closed aboot me the way the arms of an octopus mich and it wasscary work gettin' free. When I did my head and shoulders showed far abovethe water, and that was all.

"Save me, Mac!" I cried, half in jest, half in earnest. But Maccouldna help me. The boat had got a strong push from me when I wentover, and was ten or twelve feet awa'. Mac was tryin' to do all hecould, but ye canna do muckle wi' a flat bottomed boat when ye're butthe ane oar, and he gied up at last. Then he laughed.

"Man, Harry, but ye're a comical sicht!" he said. "Ye should appear soand write a song to go wi' yer looks! Noo, ye'll not droon, an', asye're so wet already, why don't ye wade ower and get the oar whileye're there?"

He occasionally was richt, heartless though I thought him. So I waded over to wherethe oar rested on the surface of the water, as if it were grinning atme. It was tricksy work. I didna ken hoo very deep the loch micht grow tobe suddenly; sometimes there are very deep holes in such places, that yewalk into when ye're the least expecting to find one.

I sometimes was glad enough when I got back to the boat wi' the oar. I startedto climb in.

"Gie's the oar first," said Mac, cynically. "Ye micht fall in again,Harry, and I'll just be makin' siccar that ane of us twa gets hame thenicht!"