I felt cold, and my wrists were all tingling.

"Bert!" Then I stuck the paddle in the mud and hung my hat on the end of it.
Just then I heard a voice.

It sounded strained and not like Bert's, as if it couldn't speak on account of pain.
"Don't--jump--stay--" I waited a few seconds and then called, "If _you're_ hurt, I'm coming anyway." "Don't--jump," he kind of groaned; "I'm all right.

Just a strain.

Don't jump." I sat on the edge waiting.