"What from?" Peckover inquired apprehensively. "Drowning, for choice," was the cool answer. "Then in common gratitude you will make over to me a sum sufficient to give me a handsome income. See?" Peckover looked immeasurably relieved. "I see that much," he replied. "But how are you going to save me from drowning?" "Well, that presents no difficulty. We are going fishing on the lake, and you are going to over-balance yourself in your excitement and slip overboard." "Oh, am I?" Peckover looked uneasily doubtful. "I don't see where the excitement about fishing comes in." "That's a detail." "Then I can't swim," Peckover objected. "All the more reason for my jumping in to save you." "But supposing you don't save me?" "I'm bound to save you. If I'm not going to rescue you, there is no point in your getting wet." "If you are not going to rescue me there's no point in my getting drowned," Peckover returned, with misgiving. "I shall work it all right," Gage assured him. "Never let go of you. You're too precious." "I don't know. It would be worth five thousand a year to you to let me dive to the bottom and stay there." "I'm neither a fool nor a murderer," Gage declared. "Not much catch in taking a cold bath with your clothes on," Peckover remarked, with an uneasy shiver. "However, I suppose I must do it." "Yes," said Gage, "after all it's the most feasible form of life-saving, combining as it does the minimum of risk with the maximum of effectiveness." So it was arranged, and the next afternoon the confederates, dressed for the occasion in their oldest clothes, went fishing on the lake. Peckover, whilst ostensibly instituting inquiries as to the best pools for sport, had cunningly obtained information as to the depth of the water at various spots, and it was at one of the shallowest that he insisted on having the punt moored. "What's the good of my pretending to save your precious life in four foot six of water," Gage expostulated in a disgusted tone, as he pointed to the watermark on the punt pole. "We shall be taken for blithering idiots." "That won't matter," returned Peckover stolidly. "It's better than being blithering idiots, and dead ones at that." "We shall give the show away." "Better than giving a peerage and a million away," Peckover retorted. "Life's too comfortable just now for us to run any risks. Besides who's going to remember how shallow the water is; and it stands to reason that if we could keep our breathing apparatus above water by just standing up, we shouldn't be such fools as to want any swimming and life-saving." So Gage had to submit, which he did with a better grace when he reflected that there might, after all, be some risk in saving a panic-stricken lover of life in really deep water.