e another for a
few minutes as if quite unconscious of the presence of Hardock at the
end of the rope, where he lay spread-eagled among the heath.

Then Gwyn slowly held out his hand, which was gripped excitedly by Joe,
who seized it with a loud sob.

"Thank ye, Jolly-wet," said Gwyn, quietly. "I felt so queer seeing you
try so hard."

"You felt--about me? Ah, you don't know what I felt about you. Ugh! I
could kick you! Frightening me twice over like that! I don't know
which was worst--when you went down or when you came up."

"Going down was worst," said Gwyn, quietly. "But have a kick if you
like; I don't feel as if I could hit back."

"Then I'll wait till you can," said Joe, with a faint smile. "Oh, dear,
how my heart does keep on beating!"

He turned with hand pressing his side and looked toward Hardock, for the
man had moved, and he, too, sat up and began searching in his pockets.
And then, to the great disgust of the two boys, they saw him slowly
bring out a short pipe and a brass tobacco-box, and then deliberately
fill the former, take out his matches, strike a light, and begin to
smoke.

"Look at that," cried Joe, viciously.

"Yes; I'm looking," said Gwyn, slowly, and speaking as if he were
utterly exhausted. "I feel as if I wish I were strong enough to go and
knock him over."

"For laughing at us when we were in such a horrible fix? Yes; so do I.
He's an old beast; and when you feel better we'll go and tell him so."

"Let's go now," said Gwyn, rising stiffly. "I say, I feel wet and cold,
and sore all over."

Joe rose with more alacrity and clenched his fists, his teeth showing a
little between his tightened lips.

"Why, Jolly," said Gwyn, gravely, "you look as if you'd knocked the skin
off your temper."

"That's just how I do feel," cried the boy--"regularly raw. I want to
have a row with old Sammy Hardock. It's all his fault, our getting into
such trouble; and first he stands there laughing at us when we were
nearly gone, and now he sits there as if it hadn't mattered a bit, and
begins to smoke. I never hated anyone that I know of, but I do hate him
now. He's a beast."

"Well, you said that before," said Gwyn, slowly; and he shivered. "I
say, Jolly, isn't it rum that when you're wet, if you stand in the sun,
you feel cold?"

"Then let's go and give it to old Hardock; that'll warm you up. I feel
red hot now."

Gwyn began to rub his chest softly, where the rope had cut into