"I had knickerbockers on, then."

"Won't these do the same?"

"They won't come up another inch."

"Then one, two, three—off!" shrieked Teddy, digging his heels into the parental back.

The horse displayed surprising agility. It curveted, it kicked, it jumped a little drain, it careered into the water, making a tremendous splashing.

The two boys screamed with delight.

But at last the horse sat down on the bank gasping, wiped its forehead, and, in spite of frenzied entreaties, proceeded to put on its socks and boots.

Lord Newhaven was not to be moved a second time. He lit a cigarette and observed that the moment for sailing boats had arrived.

The boats were accordingly sailed. Lord Newhaven tilted his hat over his eyes and acted as umpire.

"It is not usual to sail boats upsidedown," he said, seeing Teddy deliberately upset his.

"They are doing it out there," said Teddy, who had a reason for most things. And he continued to sail his boat upsidedown.

Lord Newhaven got up, and swept the water with his eye. His face became keen. Then his glance fell anxiously on the children.

"Teddy and Pauly," he said, "promise me that you will both play on this one bit of sand, and not go in the water till I come back."

They promised, staring bewildered at their father.

In another moment Lord Newhaven was tearing through the brushwood that fringed the water's edge.

As he neared the boat-house he saw another figure trying to shove out the remaining boat.

It was Doll. Lord Newhaven pushed her off and jumped in.

Doll was almost speechless. His breath came in long gasps. The sweat hung on his forehead. He pointed to the black, upturned boat.

"This one leaks," said Lord Newhaven, sharply.

"It's got to go all the same, and sharp," said Doll, hoarsely.

Lord Newhaven seized up a fishing-tin and thrust it into Doll's hands.

"You bale while I row," he said, and he rowed as he had never rowed before.

"Who is it?" he said, as the boat shot out into the open.

Doll was baling like a madman.

"Scarlett," he said. "And he's over one of the springs. He'll get cramp."

Lord Newhaven strained at the oars.

*

Consciousness was coming back, was slowly climbing upwards, upwards through immense intervals of time and space, to where at last, with a wrench, pain met it half-way. Hugh stirred feebly in the dark of a great forlornness and loneliness.

"Rachel," he said—"Rachel."

His head was gently raised, and a cup pressed to his lips. He swallowed something.

He groped in the darkness for a window, and then opened his eyes. Lord Newhaven withdrew a pace or two, and stood looking at him.

Their eyes met.

Neither spoke; but Hugh's eyes, dark with the shadow of death, said plainly, "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?"

Then he turned them slowly, as an infant turns them to the sky, the climbing woods, leaning over each other's shoulders to look at him, to the warm earth on which he lay. At a little distance was stretched a small rough-haired form. Hugh's eyes fixed on it. It lay very still.