“Look out, Wilks!” cried Coristine, as he also rose and grasped an overhanging branch of the birch; but it was too late.  The dug-out tipped, the boards slid into the water, and with them went the dominie, rod, fish, and all.  When the canoe recovered its equilibrium, Wilkinson, minus his wide awake, which was floating down the stream, was seen apparently climbing the deep-sea mooring post, like a bear on a pole, his clothes dripping where they were out of the water, his hair plastered over his eyes, and his face flushed with anger.  The lawyer could not restrain his mirth, although he knew the vengeance it would excite in the dominie’s breast.

“O Wilks, Wilks, my poor drowned rat of a friend, ha! ha! ha!  O Moses! but it’s too comical you are; the nuns couldn’t help it, Wilks, no, nor the undertaker’s drum-major, nor a hired butler, even.  Howld on, just one second more, till I’m fit to steady this divil of a dug-out for you to get in.  If I only had a kodak, Wilks, you would be immortal, and the expenses of our trip would be paid.  Oh, garrahow, ha! ha!”

The dominie climbed on to the bow of the dug-out, while Coristine balanced it, and made his silent way to the shore end, from which he gained the bank.  There he shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and brushed the wet hair out of his eyes.  He muttered a great deal, but said nothing loud enough to be intelligible; his tone, however, was far from reassuring to his companion.  The lawyer unmoored the dug-out at both ends, and set forth to recover the missing articles.  He found the hat and the two boards on the shore, a short way down the river, and, in the middle of the stream, recaptured the fishing-rod.  To his great delight, the fish was still on the hook, and he imparted the joyful news to his shivering friend, but got no single word in reply.  It was another salmon trout, or pickerel, or some such fish, and he deposited it gleefully in the bottom of the canoe with the others, which had not escaped in the tip-over.  Returning, he handed Wilkinson his hat, and hoped he was none the worse of his ducking.  The schoolmaster took the wide-awake, but gave no answer.  Then the lawyer invited him to take his place in the boat, when the storm burst.

“Am I a fool, Mr. Coristine, an abject, unthinking, infatuated fool, to entrust my comfort, my safety, my life, to a man without the soul of a man, to a childish, feeble-minded, giggling and guffawing player of senseless, practical jokes, to a creature utterly wanting in heart, selfish and brutal to a degree?”

“Oh, Wilks, my dear boy, this is too bad.  I had nothing in the mortal world to do with your tumbling out of the old dug-out, ’pon my honour I hadn’t.”