more came the loud wail, plainly enough
now, and forming the appealing word that goes home to every heart:

"Help!"

The next moment Brace Norton was dashing over the treacherous bog,
leaping from tuft to tuft of the silky cotton rush, avoiding verdant
patches of moss, which concealed watery, muddy pools, and finding
foothold where the heather grew thickly. Twice he sank in to his knees,
but he dashed on to where, at the distance of some three or four hundred
yards from the pine-wood, he had made out a figure struggling in one of
the profound holes filled with deep amber-coloured water, while, as he
rushed on, at times floundering and splashing in the soft peat, it
seemed to him that his aid would arrive too late.

A light muslin dress, a portion of which, still undrenched, buoyed up
its wearer; a little straw hat, fallen off to float on the dark waters;
a pale, upturned, agonised face; long clusters of hair rippling with the
troubled element; and two dark, wild, appealing eyes, seeming to ask his
aid. Brace Norton saw all this in the few moments ere he reached the
side of the pit; but as he recognised the features, a cry of anguish
tore from his heart, as, falling heavily, it was some little time before
he could regain his feet. Then, with a rush and a plunge, he sent the
water foaming in great waves to the green and deceptive sides of the
moor-pit, still trembling with the weight that had lately passed over
them. Another minute, and with the energy of a stout swimmer he had
forced himself through the dozen yards of water that intervened, to
reach at and grasp an arm, just as the water was bubbling up above a
fair, white forehead, and playing amidst the long tresses floating
around. Another instant, and Brace's arm was supporting the drowning
girl, as he swam stoutly towards the side.

The distance was short, but unfortunately the side he reached was but a
semi-fluid collection of bog vegetation, half floating upon the water,
and which broke away from the arm he threw over it again and again.

He swam off after two or three essays, laboriously now, with his burden,
to another part of the pool, but that was worse; the moss breaking away
at a touch. He looked towards the other side, some forty yards away,
but with his precious load he dared not try to swim the distance.

To make matters worse, the sides of the pool were not perpendicular, but
the loose vegetation grew out a couple of feet or so over the water