with Nic. There was a short
struggle on the ledge, which was about the worst place that could have
been chosen for such an encounter; and Nic, as he put forth all his
strength against the man's iron muscles, was borne to his left over the
water and to his right with a heavy bang against the rocky side of the
chasm. Then, before he could recover himself, there was a rapid
disengagement and two powerful arms clasped his waist; he was heaved up
in old West-country wrestling fashion, struggling wildly, and, in spite
of his efforts to cling to his adversary, by a mighty effort jerked off.
He fell clear away in the foaming pool, which closed over his head as
he was borne in turn right beneath the tons upon tons of water which
thundered in his ears, while he experienced the sudden change from
sunshine into the dense blackness of night.

"How do you like that?" shouted the man; but it was only a faint
whisper, of which he alone was conscious.

There was a broad grin upon his face, and his big white teeth glistened
in the triumphant smile which lit up his countenance.

"I'll let you zee."

He stood dripping and watching the swirling and foaming water for the
reappearance of Nic.

"Biggest vish I got this year," he said to himself. "Lost my pole, too;
and here! where's my cap, and--?"

There was a sudden change in his aspect, his face becoming full of blank
horror now as he leaned forward, staring over the pool, eyes and mouth
open widely; and then, with a groan, he gasped out:

"Well, I've done it now!"

CHAPTER FOUR.

NIC WILL NOT SHAKE HANDS.

History repeats itself, though the repetitions are not always recorded.

A horrible feeling of remorse and despair came over the man. His anger
had evaporated, and putting his hands to the sides of his mouth, he
yelled out:

"Ahoy, there! Help--help!"

Again it was a mere whisper in the booming roar.

"Oh, poor dear lad!" he muttered to himself. "Bother the zammon! Wish
there waren't none. Hoi, Master Nic! Strike out! Zwim, lad, zwim!
Oh, wheer be ye? I've drowned un. Oh, a mercy me! What have I done?--
Hah! there a be."

There was a plunge, a splash, and a rush against the eddying water, with
the man showing a better knowledge of the pool, from many a day's
wading, than Nic had possessed. Pete Burge knew where the shallow
shelves of polished stones lay out of sight, and he waded and struggled
on to where the water was bearing Nic round in turn. The