a
minute, he thought, and he could get hold of him.

But he did not rise for what seemed to Davie a very long time, and might
never rise of himself. There was not a particle of risk, Davie knew, in
diving to search for him, and if there had been, he would hardly have
considered it in the excitement of the moment. It would have been the
last of little Frank Holt if he had considered it long. The little
fellow had fallen head foremost, and possibly had struck his head on one
of the roots or sticks that had accumulated in the bottom of the pool,
for when Davie brought him to the surface, he seemed quite insensible,
and he struck out for the Ythan side of the pool. He did what he could
for the boy, letting the water flow from his mouth and ears, and rubbing
him rapidly for a time.

He caught sight of the other lads as they reached the opposite shore
with the raft, and saw them running at full speed in the direction of
the Grove. But he felt that he must not wait for the help they would be
sure to send, and gently lifting the boy in his arms, he went with him
with all speed through the wood and up the hill to the house.

A single sentence told the story, and in a minute little Frank was in a
warm bath and then in a warm bed. He soon showed such signs of life as
encouraged them to hope that there was not much the matter with him; and
then Davie thought of the consternation which the other lads would cause
when they carried the tale to the Grove.

"I doubt you'll need to go as quick as you can, Davie. Think of the
poor father and mother if they should hear."

"Ay, lad, make what haste you can," said his grandfather, and neither of
them were the less urgent that the child was the son of their "enemy."

So Davie went down the field again in his wet clothes, but that mattered
the less as he had the river to swim, the raft being on the other side.
He put on his dry coat over his wet garments, and no one seemed to
notice as he entered the Grove. No rumour of the accident had as yet
spread through the crowd, and Davie spoke only to Miss Elizabeth, as he
met her on the way home with her father. Happily the father and mother
knew nothing of the matter, till by and by the boy, wrapped in one of
Mrs Fleming's best blankets, was carried and set with his bundle of wet
clothes in the hall. It was his uncle Clifton who took him home, and
all that he could tell about the matter was that he had fallen into the
Black Pool, and