n.

"How stupid!" muttered Kenneth; and then he started again, for he heard
a door close rather loudly.

"Father!" he muttered, and he ran to the entry and listened again,
before going cautiously to the fire, where he suddenly made two or three
snatches of a very suspicious character, and hurried out of the kitchen
along a stone passage. Then all was silent about the place, save the
lapping and splashing of the water among the rocks outside.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

AN UNCOMFORTABLE BREAKFAST.

That same night Max fell fast asleep as soon as he was in bed, for never
in his career had he used his muscles so much in one day.

His rest was dreamless, but he awoke as the turret clock struck six, and
lay thinking.

It was a glorious morning, for his window was illumined by the sunshine,
and he felt warm and comfortable, but all the same he shivered.

For a troublesome thought had come to him, and he lay quite sleepless
now, listening for Kenneth's step, feeling quite certain that before
many minutes had passed the lad would be hammering at his door, and
summoning him to come down and bathe.

He shuddered at the idea, for the thought of what he had passed
through--the climb down to the cavern with its crystal cold water, the
weed-hung rocks, and the plunge, and the way in which he had been given
his first lesson in swimming--brought out the perspiration in a cold dew
upon his brow.

"I will not go again," he said to himself. "One ought to be half a fish
to live in a place like this."

The banging of a door and footsteps were heard.

"Here he comes!" muttered Max, and by an involuntary action he caught
hold of the bedclothes and drew them tightly up to his chin.

No Kenneth.

The sun shone brightly, and he could picture the dazzling sheen of the
waves as they rippled and flashed. He could picture, too, the
golden-brown seaweed and the creamy-drab barnacles on the rocks which
had felt so rough and strange to his bare feet.

Then a reaction set in. It was so cowardly to refuse to go, and Kenneth
and Scood would laugh at him, while to his sensitive nature the jeering
would be more painful than the venturing into the water.

"But," he argued to himself, "there is no danger in being laughed at,
and, on the other hand, they might get me out--they are so reckless--and
drown me."

He shuddered, and then he felt ashamed. He wanted to be as brave as the
other lads, and he felt that he must seem to them a misera