last he opened his eyes. As I was getting the water I saw Weston,
unmooring a boat which was fastened a little farther up. He was
evidently coming to help us to get Rupert across the canal.

Bustard's words rang in my ears. Perhaps Rupert's leg was broken.
Bustard was a doctor's son, and ought to know. And I have often
thought it must be a very difficult thing _to_ know, for people's legs
don't break right off when they break. My first feeling had been utter
bewilderment and misery, but I collected my senses with the
reflection that if I lost my presence of mind in the first real
emergency that happened to me, my attendance at Rupert's lectures had
been a mockery, and I must be the first fool and coward of my family.
And if I failed in the emergency of a broken leg, how could I ever
hope to conduct myself with credit over a case of drowning? I did feel
thankful that Rupert's welfare did not depend on our pulling his arms
up and down in a particular way; but as Weston was just coming ashore,
I took out my pocket-handkerchief, and kneeling down by Rupert said,
with as good an air as I could assume, "We must tie the broken leg to
the other at the--"

"_Don't touch it_, you young fool!" shrieked Rupert. And though
directly afterwards he begged my pardon for speaking sharply, he would
not hear of my touching his leg. So they got him into the boat the
best way they could, and Weston sat by him to hold him up, and the boy
who had been bowling pulled them across. I wasn't big enough to do
either, so I had to run round by the bridge.

I fancy it must be easier to act with presence of mind if the
emergency has happened to somebody who has not been used to order you
about as much as Rupert was used to order me.