Mac was tryin' to do all he could, but ye canna do muckle wi' a flat bottomed boat when ye're but the ane oar, and he gied up at last.

Then he laughed.
"Man, Harry, but ye're a comical sicht!" he said.

"Ye should appear so and write a song to go wi' yer looks! Noo, ye'll not droon, an', as ye're so wet already, why don't ye wade ower and get the oar while ye're there ?" He was richt, heartless though I thought him.

So I waded over to where the oar rested on the surface of the water, as if it were grinning at me.

It was tricksy work.