probably fatally wounded. Jack, however, could not reap the reward of his successful shot, for the recoil of his gun, which he had loaded too heavily, acting upon his insecure footing, had thrown him backwards, and in an instant the skiff capsized, and he was struggling in the water, unable from his burdensome clothing to swim, and with not a soul near to help. He was borne past the mud, but he made no effort to reach it, for he well knew that its treacherous surface would afford no support to him, and also that the tide would soon cover it deeply. His only hope lay in clinging to his boat; but that had floated beyond his reach and out of his sight. Thousands of distracting thoughts coursed through his brain, the chief of which were for his daughter Alice. The cold water was numbing his limbs, and his sodden clothes were dragging him down. He tried to pray, and resigned himself to his fate, while a pair of laughing gulls were screaming above him; and the moon shooting with startling suddenness over the jagged edge of a cloud shed a fitful light over the angry waters, and, by showing him how distant was all hope of succour, augmented his misery.

Liss still sat alone in her room. The fire had gone out, and she had rearranged the wood and coal so that a cheerful blaze might easily be procured when her

it

father came home. After a while, feeling restless, she went out, and, wrapped up tightly in her shawl, walked along the Acle Road, and thence across the railway to the embankment which fringes Breydon. Hearing a rustling overhead, she looked up and saw a large white mass hurtling through the air towards her. It fell on the marsh a score or two of yards away. Going up to it, she found it to be a dead swan. Guessing that it was one which had been wounded by her father, she took up, and not liking to carry it into Yarmouth herself, she hid it under a stack of the coarse marsh hay. She felt that she might now expect her father's immediate return. The tide was hurrying seawards like a mill-race, and he would not be more than half an hour reaching home. She went in and lit the fire, and then went down to the wharf to meet him. As the moonlight shone through frequently recurring rifts in the clouds, she tried to make out his boat on the gleaming surface of Breydon. But in vain. An hour passed away, and she went to the quay to see if by any chance he had landed there. But no; and Alice felt seriously alarmed. She was a brave girl, and, with a consciousness that there was nothing to be gained by sitting down and crying, she paced up and down the deserted wharves, trying to hit upon some plan of action. It was now late. The church clock had struck the

hour of eleven. Her father should have been back two hours ago. She wondered if she could get a boat and go in search of her father; but she knew no one to ask. A voice startled her.

Hallo, young lady, not meditating suicide, I hope ?" exclaimed one of two young men who were strolling along arm in arm, staggering either from the effects of wine or the strong wind. She drew back into the shadow, fearful of insult, to which, poor girl! she was not a stranger. These two, however, passed on and jumped on board a small yacht lying moored just outside a wherry. Then lights appeared in the cabin; and out of a desire for some sort of company in her loneliness she drew near, and stepping on board the wherry, she sat down on the hatches and watched the yacht.

"Look here, old man," she heard one of the gentlemen say to the other, "you had better finish that cigar of yours on deck. This pigeon-hole of a place is as full of smoke as it can be already."

"All right; to oblige your delicate constitution, I will; but there's time for you to go and sleep on shore now if you like," and the speaker emerged from the cabin, catching sight of Alice as he did so.

"By Jove! here's the suicidally-minded young lady again. What's the matter, my dear?"

Alice had made up her mind to seek assistance from the yachtsmen, and she spoke

Oh, sir, may I speak to you for a minute?"

Certainly," and fishing up a lanthorn, he turned the light on her face. Seeing that she was not what he had taken her to be, he asked her to step into the cabin, if she had anything particular to say. She went and told her story, beseeching his help. Her misery touched his heart, and her youth and comeliness aroused his gallantry.

"I don't see that we can do much for you, Miss," he said. "If, which I trust is not the case, he has been capsized, there is little chance of his being alive now, unless he clings to his boat, and the tide would have carried him out to the sea by this time. But don't be afraid. I will do what I can for you," he added, seeing her imploring look.

"Huke! Huke!" and presently Huke, a long-legged young sailor, stumbled aft, half dressed and half asleep. Now, Huke had seen Alice many times before, although she did not know him, and he was a deep admirer of hers, so that when he understood the position of matters, his alacrity in setting the canvas and getting ready for a start rather astonished his master.

"Why, Harrison, you are not going to take the yacht out?" said Brown, his friend.

Yes, old chap; why not? the jolly boat wouldn't live. You needn't come unless you like."

"You wooden-headed charger of windmills, do you think I wouldn't stand by you in your maddest of tricks, if only to see that you didn't hurt yourself? Besides, you will want me to-night. The young woman had better keep below, out of the way. Very likely we shall find her father safe at the Berney Arms" (a public-house at the top of Breydon).

All the reefs of the mainsail were taken in, and the yacht's head was canted for a tack across the river. She shot across, gunwale under, and came back on the opposite tack, to find that she had not gained a yard, the ebb tide was so strong. This performance was twice repeated, and then Brown and Huke got out with a rope and worked the boat up along the line of wherries moored to the wharves, until they got around into the mouth of the Bure, and some little way up it. Casting off, they were carried by its cross current well out into the open, where they caught the wind more aslant. Slowly, very slowly, they beat their way up the channel in silence. Huke stood on the counter with the mainsail sheet in his hand. Harrison stood at the helm, and Brown took charge of the foresail sheet, The wind roared, the water hissed under the bows, and foamed in a white wave