CHAPTER FOUR.
DOWN BY THE PENSTOCK.
It seemed a long time before we heard anything, but at last there weresteps and voices which soon became plain, and, to my surprise, I foundthat they were talking about me.
"Oh, he can't fight, Dicksy," said one voice, which I recognised as thetall boy's--my namesake. "Those London chaps are all talk and no do. Ishall give him a licking first chance, just to tame him down, and thenyou'd better have a go at him."
"You think he can't fight, then?"
"Tchah! not he. You can lick him with one hand."
"Then I will," said Dicksee. "I wonder where he went."
"Off with that old Senna T-pot," said Burr major scornfully. "He'staken him with him to pick snails and frogs--an idiot! I hate thatchap, Dicksy, he's a beast."
"Yes, that he is."
"You can't shake hands with him, because you never know what he'stouched last. I think the Doctor ought to be more particular about thesort of boys he--mumble--hum--hum hum hum!"
The buzzing of a humble-bee, and then silence.
"Ck!"
"Eh?"
"Ck!" ejaculated Mercer, uttering a stifled laugh. "Oh, I say, what agame, and us hearing every word. Thinks the Doctor ought to be moreparticular what sort of boys he has in the school. I suppose that'smeant for me. Well, my father is a gentleman, and could set his to makehim a pair of trousers if he liked. Can't shake hands with me, can'the? Well, who wants him to? I wish I could fight, I'd make him smellmy hands--my fists. He'd know then what they'd touched. But he canfight, and licked me horrid. Lie still yet, or they'll see us get up; Ithought they were in the cricket-field. Tired, I suppose. Such a fussabout making your hands a bit dirty. Daresay I keep 'em as clean as hedoes his. I say, got stung?"
"A little," I said.
"Never mind; dock's the thing to cure that. All right. Gone. Nowthen, over the stile, and do as I do."
He crept over the stile, and into the field, and began to run downbeside the hedge in a stooping position, while I followed suit, and wedid not rise up till we gained the shelter of the trees.
"There we are! This is the beginning of the woods. Oh, it's such aplace!"
"You've been before, then?" I said, as we began to wind in and outamong large beech-trees, whose smooth grey trunks were spotted withcreamy and green moss.
"Lots of times. I go everywhere when I can get away. It's a famousplace here for moths. There's old Dame Durden again. This way--nowdown here; we shall soon be there."
I followed him for about a quarter of an hour through the dim, mossyglades of the grand old wood, till all at once it grew lighter, and westepped out beside a broad sheet of water dotted with lilies and patchesof rush and reed, while about fifty yards farther along the bank of thebroad pool there was a roughly-thatched boat-house, with a mossy oldpunt moored to one of the posts by a rusty chain.
"Now, then, what do you think of this, eh?" said Mercer.
I looked round at the smooth sheet of water glistening in the brightsunshine, completely shut in by giant old trees whose great brancheshung down over the sides and even dipped their ends and seemed to berepeated in the mirror-like surface. Here I could see silverylily-blossoms, and there others of gold floating like cups amongst thebroad round leaves, and, turning from the beautiful picture to mycompanion, I could only say two words:
"It's glorious!"
"I should think it is," he cried. "We two are going to have no end offun together. You don't mind the other boys bullying you, and old Rebsnarling and finding fault, and the Doctor boxing your ears with yourbooks, when you've got places like this to come to. Hi! look at the oldmoorhen, there, with her young ones," and he pointed to acurious-looking bird swimming about and flicking its black and whitetail, as it went in and out among the rushes growing in the water, withsix little sooty-looking, downy young ones swimming after it. "Ever seeone of them before?"
"No," I said. "There's another over there too."
"No, it isn't; that's a bald coot. It's got a white shield on the topof its head, and the moorhen's got a red one like sealing-wax. Hi! lookat that!"
For all of a sudden there was a rush and splash close to the reeds, andthe moorhen and five young ones went through the water with a dash tohide among the reeds.
"Know what that was?"
"They saw us, and were frightened. Or did some one throw a big stone?"
"There's no one to throw big stones here. That was Mr Jack."
"Well, did he throw stones?" I said wonderingly.
"No! What a fellow you are! A jack--a pike--a big fish--took one ofthe young moorhens for his dinner."
"Why, I thought pike lived on fish," I cried.
"They live on anything. I've seen them swallow young ducks andwater-rats and frogs--anything they can get. We'll come and set atrimmer for that gentleman some day."
"I suppose I'm very stupid," I said; "but I've always lived in London,and have very seldom been in the country. I don't know anything aboutbirds and fish."
"You soon will. There's always something to see here. Herons comesometimes, but they don't stop, because it's too deep for them to wadeexcept in one place; and there's a hawk's nest over yonder in an oldfir-tree, but Bob Hopley shot the old birds, and you can see 'em nailedup against his lodge. There was a magpie's nest, too, up in a big elmtree not far off; but never mind them now. Let's catch some--Hist! lookthere. See 'em?"
"No," I said, looking down into the water where he pointed.
"Come here. Lie down flat, and slowly peep over the bank through thatgrass. Go softly, or you'll frighten them off. Then look down."
I did as he told me, and as I looked down into the clear, deep water,that looked almost black from its depth, I could see quite a shoal offish, with their sides barred with dark stripes, sailing slowly aboutbetween me and the dead leaves and rotten branches which strewed thebottom of the pool.
"See 'em?"
"Yes," I whispered; "perch, aren't they?"
"Why, I thought you knew nothing about fish."
"I've seen pictures of them in books," I said, "of course."
"Yes, perch, all but that black, soft-looking chap close to the bottom.He's a tench. But come on, and let's get the rods."
He led the way to the boat-house, a green strip of coarse grass aboutfive feet wide leading to the rough building, and Mercer lookedlongingly at the boat, which was half full of water.
"We'll try her some day," he said; "but she seems very leaky. Here weare."
As he spoke, he took a couple of rough-looking, unjointed rods fromwhere they were laid across some pegs driven into the side of thebuilding just below the thatch eaves.
"All right," he said, examining the stout, strong silk lines twistedlightly about them, and the hooks stuck in pieces of cork which werebound on to the butts of the rods. "Now, then, come for the worms."
He leaned the rods up against the roof of the boat-house, and led meinto the open-sided building, where, as described by the keeper, wefound an old watering-pot half full of moss, and in this damp moss, andbelow it, an abundance of fresh, lively-looking worms.
"All right. Now for some fish. This way. Take your rod, I'll carrythe pot. That's where we're going."
He pointed to where the pool narrowed, and ran up among the trees almostto a point, where I could see some woodwork, and a post standing up inthe middle, with a series of holes pierced through it, and as we walkedround by the grassy margin which led to the spot,--
"There, that's the place," cried Mercer. "That's the penstock."
"And what's a penstock."
"Don't you see. They pull up that post, and poke a peg in one of thoseholes, and that keeps it open, so as the water can run out down thatgully behind there through the wood. It's to empty the pond. Thereused to be hundreds of years ago a great forge there, and the waterturned a wheel to work the big hammers when they used to dig iron here,and melt it with charcoal. But never mind tha
t, I want to catch somefish. Now, then, walk out along that woodwork. There's just room forus both on the top of the penstock, and we'll fish from there. Mind howyou go, for it's precious deep."
It looked ugly, and the old oak beams and piles were moist, and nearlycovered with moss; but I stepped out, and reached the little platformthrough which the upright post ran, and turned round to look for mycompanion, who was by my side directly after.
"There," he said; "there isn't too much room."
"Shall I go and fish from the bank?" I said.
"Oh no, we'll manage. Don't talk loud, only whisper, and don't moveabout. I don't believe that fishes can hear all the same. There," headded, as he baited my hook, "that's old Magglin's way. Let's see, areyou deep enough. Yes, that will do. Throw in."
I dropped in my line, Mercer followed suit, and then, in the midst ofthe profound stillness of the lonely place, we stood on our littlesquare platform, leaning against the post, watching the white tops ofthe cork floats, and waiting.
"As you've been fishing before, you know what to do," whispered Mercer;"only don't be in a hurry, give 'em plenty of time, and don't striketill they take your float right down."
Half an hour passed away, and my attention began to be drawn from myfloat to watch the birds that sailed over the pool, or the swallows thatskimmed it in search of flies.
"Not deep enough," said Mercer suddenly, and, taking out his line, headjusted the float higher up, and I followed his example.
Then we began to fish again; but with no better result, and I lookedround at Mercer.
"Oh, it's no use to be in a hurry," he said. "Sometimes they won'tbite, and then you have to wait till they will. But look, something'sat mine."
I looked at his float, which had given a slight bob, and then another;but that was all.
"Off again. Didn't want worms," he said; "wants paste."
There was another long pause.
"Not deep enough," said Mercer again. "Ought to have plumbed thedepth."
He altered his float, and I did the same, and we compared them to seethat they were about alike, and the fishing went on, till my companiondecided that we ought to have fresh worms, and selected a fine fresh onefor my hook, and one for his own before throwing the old ones out intothe water.
"Well, now," he cried, "look at that!"
I was already looking, for before the old baits had gone down manyinches, we saw them both seized by largish fish, which seemed to dartout of some lilies a short distance to our left.
"What are you going to do?" I said.
"Wait a minute and I'll show you," he whispered, laughing, and afterattaching the bait, he brought down the floats till they were only abouta foot away from the hooks. "Now then, do as I do. Throw your line outas near as you can to those floating leaves."
He threw his own very cleverly, so that the bait dropped into the waterwith hardly a splash, and I followed his example.
"Too far," he said, as my bait dropped on to a lily leaf, but the weightof the shot drew it slowly off the dark green leaf, and it glided intothe water.
"I've got a bite," said Mercer, in an excited whisper. "Hi, look out!Strike! strike!" he cried, for at that moment the white top of my floatdescended suddenly, rose again and then began to glide in a slopingdirection along the edge of the lily bed.
I gave the rod a sharp, upward motion, and a thrill ran up my arm, as Ifelt the line tighten, and a curious tugging commence.
"Hurrah! you've got him. Don't let him go into the weeds, or you'lllose it. Keep your rod up, and you'll have the gentleman."
I heard all his instructions, but in the flurry of holding my first fishI did nothing but what, as the rod and line were both strong, was forthe best. That is to say, I held my rod with both hands, and kept itnearly upright, while the fish I had hooked darted here and there, andtried vainly to make a dive down for the bottom.
"It's all right," said Mercer breathlessly. "It's a big one, and youmust have him. Don't hurry."
"Is it very big?" I whispered excitedly.
"I think it is--over a pound, I should say. Let him get tired, or he'llbreak away. Ah, it's of no use, you're caught fast, old gentleman,whatever you are. It's a big carp or a tench. I think it's a carp,it's so strong."
The struggle went on for fully five minutes before the fish gave in.
"Now we've got to land it," said Mercer. "Can't do it here, or he'llbreak away. I know. Give me your rod to hold. That's it. Now you goback, and I'll pass it to you."
He laid his own tackle down, and I walked carefully along the narrowwoodwork, back to the shore, while he drew the fish round, and thenreached toward me, till I could catch hold of the rod and feel the fishstill feebly struggling.
The next minute Mercer was by my side, the fish was drawn in close upamongst the sedge growing on the bank. My companion went down flat,reached a hand into the water, and scooped out my capture, which lay nowflapping feebly in all the glory of its golden scale armour, a short,thick, broad-backed carp.
"There," cried Mercer, "didn't I tell you this was a grand place? Why,it must be a two-pounder;" and I stood gloating over the vividly-brightcolour of my capture, while Mercer knelt down, took out the hook, andfinally deposited the fish in a hollow, and covered it with fern fronds.
"Look! look!" I cried just then.
"Oh, bother! Why, there's one on," said Mercer. "Here, give me yourrod;" and he stepped quickly out on to the penstock, and made a castwith my line, trying to throw it over the top part of his own rod, whichwas slowly sailing away, floating on the water with a curious motiongoing on at the end, which kept diving down, as if something was tryingto draw it under water.
It was all plain enough: a fish had hooked itself, and at the first tug,the light bamboo rod had glided off the penstock, to act as a big, longfloat, for the cork was deep down somewhere out of sight.
I followed on to the penstock, and stood by as cast after cast was made,always cleverly over the rod, but the hook glided back on being drawnwithout taking hold.
It was plain enough that in a few minutes the rod would be drawn out ofreach, when Mercer made a more lucky cast, for in drawing back, the hookhad caught a part of the other line, and directly after there was asteady tightening.
"Hah!" ejaculated Mercer, and he drew in steadily till his own rod waswithin reach, and I lay down, leaned out as far as I could, and strainedto reach it.
"Take care. Hold tight. It's horrid deep here. Mind, or you'll bein."
But I was holding tightly by part of the woodwork, and, after a few moreefforts, I touched the butt of the rod with the tips of my fingers,pushing it away, for it to rise again right into my hand, and I rosewith it, safe.
"Give it to me. Take yours," cried Mercer, when the exchange was made,and I saw his face light up as he began to play a good-sized fish, butwith my hook still attached to his line.
"It's a big one," he panted, as the struggle went on, with, the fishfighting now to reach the water-lilies, but without success. "Thatwouldn't do," he cried. "If he once got in there, he'd wind the weedsabout the line, and break away."
So, by steady force, the fish was led back, and again I went ashorefirst, took Mercer's rod, and held it while he scooped out, and threwhigh our second capture, which proved to be another carp, nearly, butnot quite so big as mine.
We were soon fishing again from our old place, but without the slightestsuccess now, the struggles with our golden prisoners having apparentlyscared away all the other fish.
"This won't do," said Mercer at last; "we shall have to try somewhereelse. Here, I forgot all about Jem Roff; and look at 'em."
"Look at what?"
"Why, the eels. Can't you see them?"
"No."
"Why, look at those bubbles coming up. That's eels at work stirring upthe mud at the bottom, or coming out of their holes. We'll soon talk tothem."
His way of talking to the eels was to raise the floats so high, that,after trying seve
ral times, it became evident that he had adjusted thedepth so that the bait touched the ground, and the floats lay half overon their sides.
"Now then," he said, after examining the worms, "we ought to catch oldJem's supper pretty soon. Throw in there, near me."
I did as I was told, and the patient waiting began again, with changesof baits and moves in fresh positions, but without result, and I wasbeginning to get rather tired and hungry, when my companion saiddolefully,--
"Don't seem to bite. They won't begin till it's nearly dusk, and weshall have to go back before very long, for we must have some tea.Wonder whether cook'll give us some meat? I know: we'll get some eggsof Polly Hopley; she'll boil 'em for us, and we'll take 'em back."
We fished for another hour.
"It's no good," said Mercer; "I'm very sorry. I wanted you to catch abig eel, and then you'd want to come again, and now you won't care aboutit."
"Oh yes, I shall," I said. "It was worth coming too, even if we didn'tcatch any more fish."
"You think so? Look! you've got him!"
For my float was bobbing gently, and moving slowly away.
"No, no, don't strike. Yes--let him have it. That's an eel biting, andhe will not leave it. You'll see."
The gentle bob, bob, bob of the float went on as it glided slowly awayfoot after foot, till I could bear the excitement no longer, and Iturned my eyes to my companion as if to say, "Do let me strike now--strike gently."
"Yes," he cried, "he must have got it;" and I struck gently, and feltdirectly as if the hook was in a stump or a dead branch at the bottom ofthe pool.
"It isn't a fish," I said, looking at Mercer.
"What is it then?" he replied, laughing. "It's an eel."
"But it don't move or run about."
"You wait a minute. It's an eel, and a big one."
My acquaintance with eels so far had been upon the slabs at thefishmonger's shops, or in pieces browned and garnished with friedparsley, and my line remained so tight and still that I still doubted mycompanion's words.
"He has got his tail in a hole, or twined about a stump."
"But don't you think the hook's in a stump?"
"I never knew a stump bite at a worm, and run away with your float.There, he's loose now. Keep him up, and don't let him go down lowagain."
I heard his words, but felt that all I could do was to let the eel gowhere it liked. For it started the fight by swinging its head rapidlyfrom side to side in a succession of sharp jerks, and then began to makethe line and the top of the rod quiver, as it worked its way backward,trying to descend to the bottom, while my efforts were, of course,directed towards pulling it to the top.
"That's right; you've got him fast," said Mercer. "It's of no use totry and play him, he'll keep on like that for long enough. Give me therod while you get back to the bank. Then you must pull him out quickly,right up on to the grass, and put your foot upon him. Not afraid ofeels, are you?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Because the big ones will bite--hard."
I handed the rod, and walked back along the woodwork that was like theisthmus of our tiny wooden peninsula, and as soon as I was ashore,Mercer left his rod again, and handed me mine, following directly after,as I felt the snaky-looking creature writhing and undulating at the endof the line, sending quite a galvanic thrill up my arms the while.
"Now then," said Mercer, "pull steady; and when it is near the top, runit right out on to the grass."
I tried to obey his orders; but when I saw the creature keeping up itsrapid serpentine motion, I felt disposed to let it go down again intoits watery depths. I did not, however, but gradually swept the point ofmy rod round, drawing my prisoner nearly to the bank, and then with onegood swing drew it right out on to the grass, where, in an instant, ittied itself right up in a knot, with the line twisted about it.
"Oh my, what a mess!" cried Mercer, coming to my help. "Ugh! you nasty,slimy wretch! Mind, or he'll be off back into the--Ah, would you?"
He seized the line, and drew the eel farther from the water's edge,waiting his opportunity, which came directly, for the fish rapidlyuntwined itself, plunged its head amongst the grass, and began to makeits way like a snake when its course was checked by Mercer's footplanted firmly behind its head.
"Ugh! how cruel!" I said.
"Serve him right. He's grown to be as big as this by catching andeating all the poor little fish that went near him. He's good to eattoo, and what a big one! Why, he must be over a pound. Oh my, what amess!" he continued. "He has swallowed the hook right down, and there'sno getting it out till he's dead. Here, give me your handkerchief, I'lluse mine when I catch one."
I took out my handkerchief, and by his directions spread it upon thegrass, when he raised his foot, lifted up the line, and the fish againtwisted itself into a knot.
"That's the way," he said. "Now then, I'll drop him gently on to thehandkerchief, and you take the cross corners and tie them over himtight, and then the other two. Ready?"
"Yes," I said, feeling no little repugnance to the slimy creature, butgetting first one knot and then the other fast over the big roundwrithing fish, and this done to my companion's satisfaction, he whippedout his knife and cut the line.
"There," he said, "we mustn't lose sight of him, or he'll eat his wayout if he don't find another way through the folds. No; I think he'ssafe. I'll hang him here."
"Here" was the rugged stump of a small branch of one of the nearesttrees.
"Now," he said, "I'll try and catch one too before we go, and we shan'thave done so very badly."
"But you've cut my hook off," I said. "How am I to fish?"
"You'll have to watch me, for I haven't another hook. Come along. Wemustn't stop much longer, or we shan't be back to tea. Stand your rodup against that tree."
He was already half-way back to the penstock and caught up his rod, butno fish had attacked it this time, and we stood side by side once more,leaning against the post, watching his float, as he tried first in oneplace, then in another, without success.
"We shall have to give it up and go," he said at last. "We must getback to tea. We'll give the carp to Polly Hopley, she likes fish, andthe eel too."
"Look! a bite," I whispered, for I distinctly saw a slight quivering ofthe top of the float.
"No," he said despondently. "I did that, shaking the top of the rod.I'm not so lucky as you. Yes, it is. Hooray!"
For the faint quiver was repeated, then there were one or two littlebobs, then others, and at last the float began to dance slowly awaytoward the shore.
"He has got it, and is going to take it to his hole," whispered Mercer."But he don't go here to-night. He's going into the frying-pan, Ithink. Hah! Got him!"
For he now struck sharply, and the rod bent tremendously. There was nosteady, motionless pull here, but a fierce shaking of the head and ahard, vibratory tugging at the line.
"Bigger than yours," he cried. "A thumper! My, how he pulls! Ah,would you? No, you don't, my fine fellow. He wants to get to the bank,I suppose, but he's coming out here into deep water, where there'snothing to twist about, and he's not going ashore till I go first."
Just then the eel made a rush first in one direction, then in another,but with a heavy pressure kept up, and the rod bending nearly double.Then it made a rush for the shore, and Mercer raised the point of hisrod and stepped back, while I uttered a cry, for the rod had struck mesharply on the ear.
But it was not at the blow, but at the tremendous splash, for, forgetfulin his excitement of where he stood, Mercer's step was off the narrowpenstock right into the deep water, and as I clung to the post with onehand, I was looking down into the huge bubbling ring he had made, to seefirst the rod come up, then Mercer's hand, and then his face, close tohis floating cap, but quite a dozen feet away from where I stood.
I was too much startled to move for a few moments, while Mercer beat thewater with his hands frantically for a bit, and then went under ag
ain,but rose and called to me hoarsely,--
"Help!"
"Swim!" I shouted. "Swim!" But he only gazed at me wildly, and I sawhim go down again.
For an instant or two I stood as if turned to stone, then a thoughtstruck me, and I ran along the woodwork to where I had left my rod, and,without thinking of the danger and the narrowness of the path, I ranback again in time to see Mercer rise again, beating the waterfrantically.
"Here, quick!" I shouted. "Catch hold;" and I held out the thin bamboopole to him, but it did not reach within a couple of yards of where hewas beating the water.
But it had its effect upon him. It was a chance for life, and in acurious laboured way he struck out now to swim, but came on very slowly,being hampered in some way by his own rod.
"Oh, try, try, try!" I shouted, and I saw him set his teeth and swim ondesperately till one hand closed upon the thin bamboo, and then theother caught hold.
"Tight! Hold tight," I shouted, and, dropping on my knees, I began todraw the rod through my hands slowly, as if it was a rope, my eyesfeeling as if they were starting as I saw his wild pallid face and setteeth, for I was in momentary dread that he would let go.
It seemed long enough before I had drawn him within reach and snatchedat one of his wrists, then at the other, drawing myself back so as toget him closer. Then I got tight hold of his jacket collar, and, as Idid so, my knees glided away from me back over the other side of thepenstock, and a curious sickening sensation came over me. The water andMercer's white face were blurred and swimming before me, and I was fastlosing consciousness, but the faintness was not much more thanmomentary, and the sickening sensation began to wear away as rapidly asit came, as I fully realised the fact that I was half off the littleplatform, with my legs in the water, but holding my companion all thetime with a desperate clutch, while he clung as tightly to my wrists.
Then I tried to speak, but at first no words came, and it was all likesome terrible dream.
At last, though, the power of utterance came, and I cried loudly, in avoice which did not seem like mine,--
"I've got you safe. Now climb out."
He did not move, only gazed wildly in my eyes till he seemed to irritateme.
"Do you hear, you coward?" I half screamed; "climb out on to here. Doyou want me to fall right in?"
Still he did not reply, and I shouted at him again in my despairingrage, for a curious sensation of weakness crept through me, and thehorrible thought came that sooner or later I must let him go.
"Do you hear? Don't play the fool. Climb out."
"Can't," he said in a husky whisper. "I tried--hard."
"Try again."
In obedience to my fierce order, he made an effort, splashing the watera little, but ceased directly, and gazed at me wildly still.
"Can't. Line--round my legs."
His words sent a flash of light through me, for they explained hismiserable attempts to swim, and I realised that the stout silk line hadbeen twisted about him by the eel in its efforts to escape.
"Try again," I said in a voice as husky as his own. "_You must_."
He struggled feebly, but gave up at once.
"I can't," he groaned. "No strength."
The poor fellow seemed paralysed, save that I could feel his handsgrasping me with a clutch that did not relax for a moment, as I laythere on my chest, thinking what I must do. It was evident that Ishould get no help from him: for the shock of the accident, and hisdiscovery that he was fast bound and helpless, had completely unnervedhim, and it was plain to me that before long his desperate clutch wouldrelax, and, when I could hold him no longer, he would sink back anddrown before my eyes.
I looked despairingly round, but only to see deep water, and the bank sonear and yet so far, for it was out of reach.
At last my mind was made up. I would get my knees on the penstockagain, and then by main force drag him out, at all events into a sittingposition, where I could hold him against the post while he recoveredsufficiently to walk to the shore.
I waited a few moments, and then began, but to my horror found that myfeet glided over the slimy, rotten woodwork of the piles beneath thewater, and that I could get no hold anywhere. If I could have had myhands free for a few moments, it would have been easy enough, but Idared not let go of him, and, after a brief and weakening struggle, Igave up, and hung over panting, with for the only result the feelingthat the water was now farther up my legs than before.
I soon got my breath again, and made a fresh effort, but with a worseresult, and this was repeated till a chilly sensation of dread ranthrough me, and I felt half stunned at the horror of my position.
Then I recovered a little. "Mercer," I said, "do you feel rested now?"
He did not speak, only looked at me in a curious, half vacant way, and Ishivered, for this was, I felt sure, the first step toward his losingconsciousness and loosening his hold.
"I say," I cried, "don't give up like that. You've got to climb up onto these boards. I'm going to help you, but I can't unless you help metoo."
There was no reply, only the same fixed stare in his dilated eyes, andin my horror I looked wildly round at the place I had thought sobeautiful, but which was now all terrible to me, and felt how utterly wewere away from help.
I began again, twining my legs now about the nearest post, and thisenabled me to hold on, but I could get up no farther. I tried, though,to drag Mercer on to the woodwork, but my position crippled me, and Ishould have required double the muscular power I possessed.
I believe I made other trials, but a curious sensation of weakness andconfusion was coming over me, as I uttered one after the other my loudcries for help.
It was horrible, and yet it seemed ridiculous that we two lads could notstruggle up there into safety; but though I thought so then, I haveoften felt since that in my cramped position I was loaded down, as itwere, with my companion's weight.
The end seemed to be coming fast. I had no dread for myself, since Ifelt that, once free of Mercer's tight clutch and the hold I had uponhim, I could grasp the far edge of the woodwork, draw myself farther up,and sit and rest. But before I could do this I knew that he would havesunk away from me, and in a confused fashion I began to wonder whether Ishould hear him scream out as he was drowning, or whether he would sinkdown gently without a sound.
I shouted again, but my voice sounded weak, and as if it did notpenetrate the trees which closed us in, and now it seemed to be allover, for the horrible sense of faintness was returning fast, and I madeone more desperate effort before I felt that I too was going to sinkback into the black water; and in that wild last fit of energy I utteredwhat was quite a shriek, and then felt half choked by the spasm of joythat seemed to rise into my throat.
For from quite close at hand there came quite a cheery,--
"Hillo!"
"Here--quick--help!" I gasped; and then I was silent, and hearing aloud ejaculation, as I felt the wood of the penstock tremble.
"All right. Hold tight, lad," said a familiar voice, and a hand graspedmy collar. "I've got you, and I've got him too. Here, can you climbout?"
"If--if you can hold him," I said.
"I can hold him, and give you a help too. That's the way--get tighthold of the edge, draw yourself up. Well done. Now sit down, and putyour arm round the post."
I had been conscious of a strong hand grasping my waistband and givingme a drag up, and now I was sitting trembling and holding tightly by thepost.
"Now then, Master Mercer, don't stare like that, lad. I've got yousafe. There, out you come. My word, you're wet! Stop a moment,though; you'd better try and get ashore before I pull him right out.There ain't room for three of us. Can you manage it now?"
"Yes," I said, standing up with my teeth chattering.
"Sure? Don't tumble in."
"I can do it," I said, and, trembling the while as if cold, I walkeddripping along the woodwork to the shore, where I sank down on the grassas if my legs had s
uddenly given way, and crouched there watching, as Isaw the man from the farm, Jem Roff, with his arm round Mercer, whom hehad lifted right out, bring him streaming with water to the shore, andthe fishing-rod behind, while, as he lowered him on to the grass, therewas a horrible writhe from something wet close to me, which made mestart away.
"What have you two chaps been at?" cried Roff wonderingly. "The line'sall twissen round his legs,--and hold hard a minute till I get my knife.I must have that eel."
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