lled-in trap, he fought a long fight with Death
for the life that stood between him and the woman. He was not an expert
swimmer, his clothes hampered him, he was already blown with his long
race, the burden in his arms dragged him down, the water rose slowly
enough to make his torture fit for Dante's hell.

[Illustration: "HE FOUGHT A LONG FIGHT WITH DEATH."]

"At first he could not understand why this was so, but in glancing down
he saw to his horror that he had not properly closed the lower sluices;
in each some eight or ten inches remained open, so that the stream was
passing out nearly half as fast as it came in. It would be another five
and twenty minutes before the water would be high enough for him to
grasp the top.

"He noted where the line of wet had reached to on the smooth stone wall,
then looked again after what he thought must be a lapse of ten minutes,
and found it had risen half an inch, if that. Once or twice he shouted
for help, but the effort taxed severely his already failing breath, and
his voice only came back to him in a hundred echoes from his prison
walls.

"Inch by inch the line of wet crept up, but the spending of his strength
went on more swiftly. It seemed to him as if his inside were being
gripped and torn slowly out: his whole body cried out to him to let it
sink and lie in rest at the bottom.

"At length his unconscious burden opened its eyes and stared at him
stupidly, then closed them again with a sigh; a minute later opened them
once more and looked long and hard at him.

"'Let me go,' he said, 'we shall both drown. You can manage by
yourself.'

"He made a feeble effort to release himself, but the other held him.

"'Keep still, you fool!' he hissed; 'you're going to get out of this
with me, or I'm going down with you.'

"So the grim struggle went on in silence, till the man, looking up, saw
the stone coping just a little way above his head, made one mad leap and
caught it with his finger-tips, held on an instant, then fell back with
a 'plump,' and sank; came up and made another dash, helped by the
impetus of his rise, caught the coping firmly this time with the whole
of his fingers, hung on till his eyes saw the grass, till they were both
able to scramble out upon the bank and lie there, their breasts pressed
close against the ground, and their hands clutching the earth, while the
overflowing water swirled softly round them.

[Illustration: "CAUGHT IT WITH HIS FINGER-TIPS."]