or the
leap."

"I think he'll go," Billy insisted.

In the meantime Job North had stood regarding his son.

"Well, son," he sighed, "what you think about that net?"

"I think, sir," said Donald, steadily, between his teeth, "that the
net should come in."

Job North patted the boy on the back. "'Twould be wise, b'y," said he,
smiling. "Come, b'y; we'll go fetch it."

"So long, Don!" Billy Topsail shouted delightedly.

Donald and his father put out in the punt. There was a fair, fresh
wind, and with this filling the little brown sail, they were soon
driven out from the quiet water of the harbour to the heaving sea
itself. Great swells rolled in from the open and broke furiously
against the coast rocks. The punt ran alongshore for two miles,
keeping well away from the breakers. When at last she came to that
point where Job North's net was set, Donald furled the sail and his
father took up the oars.

"'Twill be a bit hard to land," he said.

Therein lay the danger. There is no beach along that coast. The rocks
rise abruptly from the sea--here, sheer and towering; there, low and
broken. When there is a sea running, the swells roll in and break
against these rocks; and when the breakers catch a punt, they are
certain to smash it to splinters.

The iron stake to which Job North's net was lashed was fixed in a low
ledge, upon which some hardy shrubs had taken root. The waves were
casting themselves against the rocks below, breaking with a great roar
and flinging spray over the ledge.

"'Twill be a bit hard," North said again.

But the salmon-fishers have a way of landing under such conditions.
When their nets are in danger they do not hesitate. The man at the
oars lets the boat drift with the breaker stern foremost towards the
rocks. His mate leaps from the stern seat to the ledge. Then the other
pulls the boat out of danger before the wave curls and breaks. It is
the only way.

But sometimes the man in the stern miscalculates--leaps too soon,
stumbles, leaps short. He falls back, and is almost inevitably
drowned. Sometimes, too, the current of the wave is too strong for the
man at the oars; his punt is swept in, pull as hard as he may, and he
is overwhelmed with her. Donald knew all this. He had lived in dread
of the time when he must first make that leap.

"The ice is comin' in, b'y," said North. "'Twill scrape these here
rocks, certain sure. Does you think you're strong enough to take the
oars an' let me