 own troubles were forgotten, his best instincts aroused, in
the desire to save the drowning lad.

He saw at a glance how short a distance the helpless boy was from the
bank, and that an eddy was setting him in so near that, if he went close
down to the rushing water, he might be able to reach out and seize the
fleece of the sheep as they passed.

In a few seconds Richard was down, knee-deep in water, holding on with
his left hand to the reedy growth of the bank and reaching out to snatch
at the sheep.

Vain attempt.

The dead animal did not come within five yards, but, after curving in,
literally shot out again towards the middle of the river and was borne
down, the boy uttering a despairing wail as he saw his help fade away.

At the same moment Richard Frayne felt the mud giving beneath his feet,
and he had hard work to struggle out on to firm land.  And then there
was another despairing cry for help, so faint and yet so penetrating to
the cowardly fugitive's heart that he turned, forgot everything but the
fact that a brother was dying before his eyes, and took one brave plunge
into the swollen river, to pass under into the thunderous darkness,
feeling as if he had suddenly been grasped by a giant who was bearing
him down.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A GOOD SERVANT AND BAD MASTER.

It was a good thirty yards from where Richard Frayne dived in, and when
a strange bewildering sense of suffocation was beginning to make itself
his master.  He had tried again and again to rise, but the water pressed
him down and forced him to the bottom.  At last, with one desperate
kick, he drove himself upward and saw the daylight once again as he
struck out vigorously, following the natural instinct to reach the bank.

But as the water cleared from his eyes, his mental vision cleared as
well, and, looking sharply over his shoulder, he caught sight of the
white face once more, glistening on a level with the water not five
yards away, and a hand rose above the surface and fell with a splash.

Recollecting now why he had plunged in, Richard