t he felt that at all cost he must
plunge in and try to save his adversary before the poor fellow was swept
by him and borne once more beneath the fall.

Stripping off his coat, he waited a few seconds, and then leaped outward
so as to come down feet first, in the hope that he might find bottom and
be able to wade, for he knew that swimming was out of the question.

It was one rush, splash, and hurry, for the water was not breast-deep,
and by a desperate effort he kept up as his feet reached the rugged,
heavily-scoured stones at the bottom. Then the pressure of the water
nearly bore him away, but he managed to keep up, bearing sidewise, and
the next minute had grasped the man's arm and was struggling shorewards,
dragging his adversary towards the rugged bank.

Twice-over he felt that it was impossible; but, as the peril increased,
despair seemed to endow him with superhuman strength, and he kept up the
struggle bravely, ending by drawing the man out on to the ledge of
stones nearly on a level with the water, where he had been at first
standing at the foot of the fall.

"He's dead; he's dead!" panted Nic, as he sank upon his knees, too much
exhausted by his struggle to do more than gaze down at the dripping,
sun-tanned face, though the idea was growing that he must somehow carry
the body up into the sunshine and try to restore consciousness.

Comic things occur sometimes in tragedies, and Nic's heart gave a
tremendous leap, for a peculiar twitching suddenly contracted the face
beside which he knelt, and the man sneezed violently, again and again.
A strangling fit of coughing succeeded, during which he choked and
crowed and grew scarlet, and in his efforts to get his breath he rose
into a sitting position, opened his eyes to stare, and ended by
struggling to his feet and standing panting and gazing fiercely at Nic.

"Are you better?" cried the latter excitedly, and he seized the man by
the arms, as he too rose, and held him fast, in the fear lest he should
fall back into the whirlpool once more.

That was enough! Pete Burge was too hardy a fisher to be easily
drowned. He had recovered his senses, and the rage against the young
fellow who had caused his trouble surged up again, as it seemed to him
that he was being seized and made prisoner, not a word of Nic's speech
being heard above the roar of the water.

"Vish as much mine as his," said the man to himself; and, in nowise
weakened by his immersion, he closed