ing out his knife, he hacked off
a rod about ten feet long, trimmed off the twigs and leaves, all but a
patch on the end, and, before his companion could realise what he
intended, he had leaped ashore, given the boat a thrust, and run up the
bank.

"No, no," cried Fred. "I'll go."

"It's my place, and I shall go myself," replied his companion. "Take
the oars and row gently along. I don't think I shall mind. If I do,
I'll come back and you shall go."

"But you have no light."

"No," said Scarlett, gravely; "but I know the way now, and that there's
no danger, so I shall not care." Before Fred could offer further
remonstrance, Scarlett had run into the nearest patch of woodland and
disappeared.

"I don't like letting him go," muttered Fred, as he gazed at the spot
where his companion had disappeared. "It seems as if I were a coward.
Perhaps I am, for it does seem shivery work to do. Never mind, I'll go
next time," he added quickly; and, taking the oars, he sat down where
his companion had vacated the seat, and began to row slowly back to
where he fancied the entrance must be.

Then followed so long a period of waiting that the boy grew anxious, and
after rowing to and fro for some time outside the thick growth which
edged that portion of the lake, he made up his mind that something must
be wrong, and determined to land and go in search of Scarlett.

"How horrible if he has waded into a deep place, and gone down!" he
muttered, as he bent over the oars, to pull with all his might, when he
fancied he heard a distant hail.

He ceased rowing, and the water rippled about beneath the front as he
listened.

"Where are you?" he cried.

"Here," came from apparently a great distance.

"Where's here?"

"Here, here, here. Can't you see?"

The voice seemed to come from far away, and he drew in the oars, and
stood up in the boat to look from side to side, searching eagerly, and
trying to pierce the bushes and overhanging ivy, which screened the
rocky shore.

"Here! Hoy!"

Fred faced round now, and looked across the lake, to see Nat standing on
the farther shore.

"What are you doing? Got any?" shouted Nat.

Fred put his hands to the sides of his mouth, and shouted back.

"No! not yet."

"Where's Master Scarlett?"

"Ashore."

"Oh!"

"He thinks we've been setting eel-lines," muttered Fred, as, to his
great annoyance, he saw the gardener seat himself on the distant bank
and watch him.

"Oh, what