Having recovered his breath, he now thought it was time to
move on.
At the first step of the horse Mr. Podington began to totter.
Instinctively he clutched Buller.
"Sit down!" cried the latter, "or you'll have us both overboard."
There was no help for it; down sat Mr. Podington; and, as with a great
splash he came heavily upon the seat, the water rose to his waist.
"Ough!" said he. "Thomas, shout for help."
"No use doing that," replied Buller, still standing on his nautical
legs; "I don't see anybody, and I don't see any boat. We'll get out
all right. Just you stick tight to the thwart."
"The what?" feebly asked the other.
"Oh, the seat, I mean. We can get to the shore all right if you steer
the horse straight. Head him more across the pond."
"I can't head him," cried Podington. "I have dropped the reins!"
"Good gracious!" cried Mr. Buller, "that's bad. Can't you steer him by
shouting 'Gee' and 'Haw'?"
"No," said Podington, "he isn't an ox; but perhaps I can stop him."
And with as much voice as he could summon, he called out: "Whoa!" and
the horse stopped.
"If you can't steer him any other way," said Buller, "we must get the
reins.
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