"No, thanks, it's too muddy for my taste." "'Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink!'" quoted Piers. "And what our thirst will be ere long, One doesn't like to think!" rapped out the irrepressible Francis, whose muse was not quenched even by this disaster. "We're in a fix, and that's the solemn truth," said Godfrey. They were, indeed, in a most awkward predicament. By the time the tide was high again it would be midnight, and they certainly could not see to row in the dark. There was every prospect that they would have to spend the night on the shoal, without tea or supper, or extra wraps. They waited for perhaps an hour and a half, while the sandbank grew to quite a respectable island. There were woods on either hand, so it was most unlikely that their plight would be noticed from the shore; their only chance of relief was from a passing boat--a faint hope, for as a rule there were very few craft on the river. "I begin to understand how a shipwrecked mariner feels when he's waiting for a sail!" said Aldred. "I believe I'd trade my watch for a plateful of bread and butter," said Francis. Godfrey suddenly stood up in the stern and waved his hat. "A boat! A boat!" he cried eagerly. "Hallo, there! Hi!" Francis and Piers immediately joined him in making such a noise that nobody but a deaf person could have ignored it. The fisherman who was rowing in their direction evidently realized the situation; he signed to his mate to stay in the channel, then, clambering overboard, came wading in his tall boots on to the island. "Why, it's Sam Ball, who sings in the choir!" exclaimed Godfrey. Their rescuer regarded them with a rueful grin. "You've got yourselves into a precious mess here!" he said briefly. "Can you help us to pull her off?" returned Piers anxiously. "Pull her off! Couldn't do it with a team of horses! She'll have to stop where she is until the tide floats her. I'll take you off, and that's the best I can do for you. Hoist one of them young misses on my back; I'll carry them first." He waded with Aldred to his own boat, returning to fetch Mabel, and the boys scrambled after him as best they could. "It's Pritchard's boat, isn't it?" he said. "I'm passing the ferry, so if you like I'll tell him what's happened. If you cross through the wood there, and turn to the right of the iron gate, you'll find your way straight to the village." The boys went home in rather subdued spirits. "We shall have to go down to the ferry this evening and explain things to Pritchard," said Piers. "I hope he won't cut up rough about the boat." "I'm afraid he'll want compensation," said Francis, "I split that spliced oar with trying to shove her off." "What an abominable swindle! It'll take half our next term's cash. I don't believe the pater will stand it for us." "I'm sure he won't, after that little affair of the rifle and old Carter's dog!" put in Godfrey.