It's wonderful how hardy a fellow will get when he's got twenty fellows clustering round him.
"He's alive, anyhow," said one.

"Call out to him, some one," suggested another.

"You're nearest the window, Fraser," said another.

Fraser was vice-captain of the second fifteen, and always touchy whenever his pluck was called in question.
"I'm not afraid," he said, in a voice which was hardly quite steady.
And as he spoke he threw up the window, and called out hurriedly, and in rather deferential tones--"Who are you down there ?" I don't suppose Fraser ever did a pluckier thing than ask that question.
We listened, all ears, for the reply.

But none came.