im back with it, or could he hold his own?
He braced himself as firmly as he could, placing his feet apart, and
digging his nails into the inequalities of the rock until the blood
gushed from them. The water surged up upon him, and he felt it tugging
like some murderous demon at his legs, but he held on bravely until the
pressure decreased. Looking below the saw the wave sinking down the
face of the cliff. Another wave overtook it and welled it up again, and
then from the depths of the green waters Ezra saw a long white arm shoot
up, and grasp the edge of the ledge upon which he stood.

Even before the face appeared the young man knew that the hand was his
father's. A second followed the first, and then the old merchant's face
was uplifted from the waves. He was cruelly bruised and battered, and
his clothes had been partly torn away. He recognized his son, however,
and looked up at him beseechingly, while he held on with all his
strength to the ledge of rock. So small was the space that his clinging
fingers touched Ezra's toes.

"There's no room here," the young man said brutally.

"For God's sake!"

"Hardly room for one."

The merchant was hanging with the lower portion of his body in the
water. It was but a few instants, but the old man had time to think of
many an incident in his past life. Once more he saw the darkened
sick-room, and his own form standing by the bed of the dying man.
What are these words which ring in his ears above the crash of the surf?
"May your flesh and blood treat you as you treat her." He looked up
appealing at his son. Ezra saw that the next wave would lift him right
up on to the ledge. In that case he might be hustled off.

"Leave go!" he cried.

"Help me, Ezra."

His son brought down his heavy heel upon the bloodless hands. The old
African trader gave a wild shriek and fell back into the sea. Looking
down, Ezra saw his despairing face gazing at him through the water.
Slowly it sank until it was but a flickering white patch far down in the
green depths. At the same instant a thick rope came dangling down the
face of the cliff, and the young man knew that he was saved.

CHAPTER L.

WINDS UP THE THREAD AND TIES TWO KNOTS AT THE END.

Great was the excitement of the worthy couple at Phillimore Gardens when
Kate Harston was brought back to them. Good Mrs. Dimsdale pressed her
to her ample bosom and kissed her, and scolded her, and wept over her,
while the doc