At that moment came a violent gust of wind; the mast creaked, the boat heeled over, and could not right herself. According to promise, Anton went to the bottom without any more ado. Quick as lightning Fink dived after him, brought him up, and, with a violent effort, reached a spot whence they could wade ashore. "Deuce take it," gasped Fink; "take hold of my arm, can't you?" But Anton, who had swallowed a quantity of water, was hardly conscious, and only waved Fink off. "I do believe he'll be down again," cried the latter, impatiently, catching hold of him and making for the shore. A crowd had by this time assembled round the spot where Fink was holding his companion in his arms and exhorting him to recover himself. At length Anton opened his eyes. "Why, Wohlfart," said Fink, anxiously, "how goes it, my lad? You have taken the matter too much to heart. Poncho y ponche!" cried he to the by-standers; "a cloak and a glass of rum--that will soon bring him round." A cloak was willingly lent, and our hero carried to the builder's house. "Here is an end of boat, sails, oars, and all," said Fink, reproachfully, "and of our coats into the bargain. Did not I tell you that it was a good-for-nothing tub?" For an hour, at least, Fink tended his victim with the greatest tenderness, but it was late before Anton was sufficiently recovered to walk home. The next day was Sunday, and the principal's birth-day besides. On this important occasion, the gentlemen of the office spent some hours after dinner with the family circle, and coffee and cigars were served. As they were sitting down to table, the good-natured cousin said to Fink, "The whole town is full of the fearful risk which you and Mr. Wohlfart ran yesterday." "Not worth mentioning, my dear lady!" replied Fink, carelessly; "I only wanted to see how Master Wohlfart would behave in drowning. I threw him into the water, and he was within a hair's-breadth of remaining at the bottom, considering it indiscreet to give me the trouble of saving him. Only a German is capable of such self-sacrificing politeness." "But," cried the cousin, "this is a sheer tempting of Providence. It is dreadful to think of it!" "It is dreadful to think of the impurity of your river. The water sprites that inhabit it must be a dirty set. But Wohlfart did not mind their mud. He fell into their arms with enthusiasm. He threw both legs over the boat's edge before there was any occasion." "You told me to do so," cried Anton, in self-exculpation. "Poor Mr. Wohlfart!" exclaimed the astonished cousin. "But your coats! This morning I met a policeman with the wet bundle in his arms, and it was he who told me of your accident." "The coats were fished up at an early hour," said Fink, "but Karl doubts whether they will ever dry. Meanwhile, Wohlfart's boots are on a voyage of discovery toward the ocean."