“All is well,” I said. “Jeeves is coming.”
“What can he do?”
I frowned a trifle. The man’s tone had been peevish, and I didn’t like it.
“That,” I replied with a touch of stiffness, “we cannot say until we see him in action. He may pursue one course, or he may pursue another. But on one thing you can rely with the utmost confidence—Jeeves will find a way. See, here he comes stealing through the undergrowth, his face shining with the light of pure intelligence. There are no limits to Jeeves’s brainpower. He virtually lives on fish.”
I bent over the edge and peered into the abyss.
“Look out for the swan, Jeeves.”
“I have the bird under close observation, sir.”
The swan had been uncoiling a further supply of neck in our direction; but now he whipped round. The sound of a voice speaking in his rear seemed to affect him powerfully. He subjected Jeeves to a short, keen scrutiny; and then, taking in some breath for hissing purposes, gave a sort of jump and charged ahead.
“Look out, Jeeves!”
“Very good, sir.”
Well, I could have told that swan it was no use. As swans go, he may have been well up in the ranks of the intelligentsia; but, when it came to pitting his brains against Jeeves, he was simply wasting his time. He might just as well have gone home at once.
Every young man starting life ought to know how to cope with an angry swan, so I will briefly relate the proper procedure. You start by picking