the job. His
slow motions said so.

"Come!" said Preston,--"be alive and do it quick, will you?"

"He can't--" said Daisy.

"Yes he can," said Preston. "If he can't he isn't worth his bread and
salt. That's it, Sam--hand over hand, and you'll be there directly."

Sam shewed what he _could_ do, if he did not like it; for he worked
himself up the tall tree like a monkey. It was not so large but he could
clasp it; so after a little rough work on his part and anxious watching
on Daisy's, he got to the branches. But now the line was caught in the
small forks at the leafy end of the branch. Sam lay out upon it as far
as he dared; he could not reach the line.

"O he'll fall!" cried Daisy softly. "O Preston, let him come down!--he
can't get it."

"He'll come to no harm," said Preston coolly. "A little further,
Sam--it's oak wood, it will hold you; a little further, and you will
have it--a little further!--"

And Daisy saw that Sam had gone too far. The bough swayed,--Sam made a
lunge after the line, lost his hold, and the next minute his dark body
was falling through the air and splashed into the pool. The water flew
all over the two fishers who stood by its side; Preston awe-struck for
the moment, Daisy white as death. But before either of them could speak
or move, Sam's head reappeared above water.

"O get him out! get him out, Preston!" was Daisy's distressed cry.
Preston spoke nothing, but he snatched a long stick that lay near and
held it out to Sam; and so in a few minutes drew him to the shore and
helped him out. Sam went to a little distance and stood dripping with
water from head to foot; he did not shake himself as a Newfoundland dog
would have done.

"Are you hurt, Sam?" said Preston.

"No, sir--" Sam answered, in a tone as if he felt very wet.

"Well, you've cleared the line for me at last," said Preston. "All's
well that ends well. Hollo!--here's my hook gone,--broken off, float and
all. Where's that basket, Sam?"

"It's below, sir."

"Below? where? just fetch it here, will you? _This_ misfortune can be
mended."

Sam moved off, dripping from every inch of him. "O Preston," said Daisy,
"he's all wet as he can be--do let him go right down to that house and
dry himself! We can get the basket."

"Do him good to move about," said Preston. "Nonsense, Daisy!--a ducking
like that won't do anybody any harm in a summer's day."

"I don't think _you'd_ like it," said Daisy; "and all his clothes are
full