The Kings Sons | Page 5

stop where he is."
The monk groaned again, and the three boys outside the reeds laughed
with malicious glee.
"If we pull him out he'll only take us back and begin to teach us to
read."
"Yes, yes, yes," sighed Father Swythe; "I came to fetch you in. The
Queen sent me."
"Then we won't help you," said Bert; laughing. "Let's go and finish
getting our fish, and then go back. When they ask where he is we'll tell
them, and then some of the shepherds can come with wattle hurdles and
get him out."
"Oh, dear!" groaned the monk. "After all my teaching, for you boys to
be as bad as this! Why, if you leave me I shall be drowned!"
"Oh, no," said Red merrily. "You've only to keep holding your face
up."
"Yes," said Bert; "and that will send your legs down till you'll be
standing up in the mud and water."
"And all the big flies and things will come and buzz about and settle on

your crown. Come along, Fred, and finish the dam."
"If we finish the dam," said Alfred seriously, "all the water will run in
here and make it deeper."
"Well, then he can swim out. You can swim, can't you?"
"No, no, no," said the monk sadly. "I never learned."
"What a pity!" said Red, laughing.
"You ought to have learned to swim instead of learning so much Latin,"
cried Bert.
"There isn't time to learn everything, my boys," said the monk sadly.
"I'm obliged to try and teach you all: the King and Queen sent for me
that I might. Please help me out."
"We're not going to," cried Bald. "Come along, boys. He ought to have
learned to swim."
Bald began to move away, and the monk groaned again.
"Come along, Fred," cried Bert, and the monk turned his head sidewise
so as to look piteously at the youngest boy.
"No, I'm not coming. I'm going to stop and help Father Swythe."
"Hah!" sighed the monk, and he squeezed Alfred's hand.
"No, you're not," cried Bald fiercely; "you're coming with us. Come
along. He will not sink."
"I shan't come!" said Alfred sturdily.
"What? Here, boys, let's fetch him out."
There was a rush made towards where the boy stood knee-deep, and he
snatched his hand free from the monk's grasp, turned half-round,

stooped a little, and as his eldest brother came wading in among the
reeds he scooped up the water and saluted him with a heavy shower
right in the face, drenching him so that he turned tail and hurried back,
the other two laughingly backing out of reach.
"Oh, you!" shouted. Bald. "Come out, or I'll hold you right under the
water till you can't breathe."
"Come along then," cried Alfred boldly, and he sent another shower of
water after his brother, wetting him behind now. "You'll be just as wet
as I shall first."
"You come out!"
"I shan't! You come here, if you dare!"
"Come and help me, boys," cried Bald; but the others only laughed.
"Come yourself, if you dare! Father Swythe will help me, and we'll
duck you."
"Urrr!" growled Bald, stamping with rage. Then: "Never mind, boys:
let them stop together. Give him a Latin lesson, Father Swythe."
"You stop a moment, all three of you," cried Alfred sharply. "You're
not going away to leave Father Swythe like this. Go and fetch the big
fir-pole that we laid across to begin the dam. If that's laid down here
Father Swythe can pull himself out."
"Fetch it yourself!" cried Bald angrily. "We're not your serfs."
"I'm going to stop with Father Swythe," cried Alfred.
"Good boy! good boy!" whispered the monk.
"And look here," cried Alfred angrily: "it's cruel and wicked not to help
him, and if you don't go I shall tell mother, and father will have you all
punished severely."

"Tell, if you dare!" cried Bald, wringing out some of the water from the
front of his tunic-like gown. "Come along, boys, and we'll get the fish
without him."
Bald started off back to the stream, and the others followed him, the
monk watching with piteous eyes till they were out of sight, when he
turned his doleful, wrinkled face to his young companion, to tell him
what he already knew.
"They're gone," he said sadly.
"Yes," said Alfred, laughing; "but only to fetch the fir-pole."
"Do you think so?" sighed the monk.
"Yes; they're afraid of my telling mother and making her angry. She
doesn't like us to do cruel things: she'd tell us we were like the Danes.
They'll come back soon with the pole, and then if you hold one end we
can pull the other and draw you out. But I say, Father Swythe, you're
big and strong. Don't