ensation, and it
gave way to a feeling of joy, for there, close at his side, so near that
he could touch, was the grim, upturned face of Drinkwater, with eyes
staring wildly into his. He, too, was clinging with all his might to
one of the broken timber baulks, and, as his eyes met Will's, he uttered
a piteous, gasping cry, and murmured the one word--

"Help!"

That appeal went straight to the boy's heart, and seemed to nerve him
for his task.

"Help? Yes!" he cried. "I've come to bring you help;" and then a pang
shot through his breast as he spoke his next words. "Mr Manners was
here just now, and he'll soon be back."

Would, he asked himself, as he thought of his father, those words prove
true?

"Cheer up, old fellow!" he cried, and he felt stronger still.

Here was something he could do.

"Can you raise yourself a little higher?" he said, for the rising water
lapped in a wave nearly to the sufferer's mouth.

"No, no," said the man, faintly; "I'm gripped between two timbers fast
by the legs. There, I feel better now. Ah, Will, lad, I am glad you
have come! I can think and see all now. That burning pain has gone
from my head, and it's all quite clear. And how just and right all is,
if we could always only see."

"Yes, yes, of course," cried Will, cheerily; "but keep a good heart.
They'll come and help us soon. But I want to see you higher up; the
water's getting deeper, and you must raise your head."

The man smiled softly in his face; his old grim and savage look had
gone, and, after making a vain effort, his head sank back so low that
the water swept right over his nostrils, and, fast held as he was, he
must have drowned; but in an instant Will shifted his position, took
another grip, and forced his legs beneath him till his knees were below
the prisoner's shoulders, wedging him up so that he could breathe freely
once more.

"There, that's better," cried Will, hoarsely. "You'll be all right
now."

"Yes, for a few minutes, lad, but the end is near, and it's all quite
right. Will, lad, I used to make toys for you, when you were a little
child, and, when you grew bigger, I used to let you spoil my tools, for
I never had bairn of my own, and, after my way, I somehow got to love
you, lad. And then, I must have gone kinder sorter mad. That burning
pain came in my head. I can see it all clearly now, just at the last.
I got cursing the best of masters that ever stepped, and one night in a
mad f