He drew back a step or two, and sprang out with all his force.  He was a practised and agile jumper, and, to their great relief, he alighted near the water’s edge, on the other side, where, after slipping once or twice on the wet and seaweed-covered rocks, he effected a safe landing, with no worse harm than a wetting up to the knees.

“Now then, you too,” he shouted; “no time to lose.”

“Will you jump first, Monty?” said Russell; “both of you are better jumpers than I, and to tell the truth I’m rather afraid.”

“Then I won’t leave you,” said Montagu; “we’ll both stay here.”

“And perhaps be drowned or starved for our pains No, Monty, you can clear it, I’ve no doubt.”

“Couldn’t we try to swim it together, Edwin?”

“Madness! look there.”  And as he spoke, a huge furious wave swept down the whole length of the gulf by which they stood, roaring and surging along till the whole water seethed, and tearing the seaweeds from their roots in the rock.

“Now’s your time,” shouted Eric again.  “What are you waiting for?  For God’s sake, jump before another wave comes.”

“Monty, you must jump now,” said Russell, “if only to help me when I try.”

Montagu went back as far as he could, which was only a few steps, and leapt wildly forward.  He lighted into deep water, nearly up to his neck, and at first tried in vain to secure a footing on the sharp slippery schist; but he stumbled forwards vigorously, and in half a minute, Eric leaning out as far as he could, caught his hand, and just pulled him to the other side in time to escape another rush of tumultuous and angry foam.

“Now, Edwin,” they both shouted, “it’ll be too late in another minute.  Jump for your life.”

Russell stood on the rock pale and irresolute.  Once or twice he prepared to spring, and stopped from fear at the critical instant.  In truth, the leap was now most formidable; to clear it was hopeless; and the fury of the rock-tormented waves rendered the prospect of a swim on the other side terrible to contemplate.  Once in the grasp of one of those billows, even a strong man must have been carried out of the narrow channel, and hurled against the towering sweep of rocks which lay beyond it.

“Oh Edwin, Edwin—­dear Edwin—­do jump,” cried Eric with passionate excitement.  “We will rush in for you.”

Russell now seemed to have determined on running the risk; he stepped back, ran to the edge, missed his footing, and with a sharp cry of pain, fell heavily forward into the water.  For an instant, Eric and Montagu stood breathless,—­but the next instant, they saw Russell’s head emerge, and then another wave foaming madly by, made them run backwards for their lives, and hid him from their view.  When it had passed, they saw him clinging with both hands, in the desperate instinct of self-preservation, to a projecting bit of rock, by the aid of which he