in the boat and
touching him, that Humpy Dee was alive and regaining consciousness, his
companions had suddenly grown very quiet, and the dread had assailed Nic
that the man was dead, for he had been left to take his chance as far as
the overseer was concerned; and when twice-over the prisoners had begun
to trouble themselves about their comrade's state, Nic setting the
example by kneeling down to raise Humpy's head, a stern command came
from the stern of the boat, and this threat:

"Look here, you fellows; if I hear any more talking or shuffling about
there I shall fire."

Nic felt that the man would act up to his threat; but after a time, when
a groan came from Humpy, the whispering and movements recommenced in the
efforts made to succour the sufferer.

"I don't speak again," roared the overseer; and Nic started and
shuddered, but felt fiercely indignant the next moment as he heard the
ominous _click_! _click_! of a pistol-lock from out of the darkness
astern.

At last came the order for a fresh change of rowers, and four of the
captives went climbing over the thwarts, with their irons clanking and
striking against the seats as they took their places, all being men who
had been accustomed to the handling of an oar.

Nic took advantage of the noise to sink upon his knees beside Humpy in
the bottom of the boat to try if he could not do something for him; he
was no longer the hated, brutal ruffian, but a suffering
fellow-creature. As Nic felt about in the dark he found that the man
had somehow shifted his position and slightly rolled over, so that his
face was partly in the water which had collected for want of baling; and
doubtless, in his helpless, semi-insensible state, but for Nic's
efforts, Humpy Dee's career would after all have been at an end.

It was only a fresh instance of how strangely we are all dependent upon
one another, and the way in which enemies perform deeds which they
themselves would previously have looked upon as impossible. And without
doubt big, brutal Humpy Dee would have stared in wonder, could he have
opened his eyes in daylight, to see what took place in the
pitch-darkness--to wit, the feeble, suffering young man, whom he had
struck down and tried to drown in the Devon salmon-pool, kneeling in the
wash-water, making a pillow of his knees for his companion's rough,
coarse head.

Still, for hours this was Nic's position, while the boat was rowed by
the white slaves along the winding