gradually drew himself out of the water, and grasping at crevices or bits of seaweed, slowly and painfully reached the ledge on which they had stood before they took the leap.  He presented a pitiable spectacle; his face, pale as death, was dabbled with blood; his head drooped on his breast; his clothes were torn, and streamed with the salt water; his cap was gone, and the wet hair, which he seemed too exhausted to push aside, hung over his forehead and eyes.  He was evidently dizzy, and in pain; and they noticed that he only seemed to use one foot.

While he was regaining the ledge, neither of the boys spoke, lest their voices should startle him, and make him fall; but now, they both cried out, “Are you hurt, Edwin?”

He did not answer, but supported his pale face on one hand, while he put the other to his head, from which the blood was flowing fast.

“O Edwin, for the love of God, try once more,” said Montagu; “you will die if you spend the night on that rock.”

They could not catch the reply, and called again.  The wind and waves were both rising fast, and it was only by listening intently, that they caught the faint words, “I can’t, my leg is hurt.”  Besides, they both saw that a jump was no longer possible; the channel was more than double the width which it had been when Eric leaped, and from the rapid ascent of rocks on both sides, it was now far out of depth.

“O God, what can we do,” said Montagu, bursting into tears.  “We can never save him; and all but the very top of the Stack is covered at high tide.”

Eric had not lost his presence of mind.  “Cheer up, Edwin,” he shouted; “I will get back to you somehow.  If I fail, crawl up to the top again.”

Again the wind carried away the reply, and Russell had sunk back on the rock.

“Monty,” said Eric, “just watch for a minute or two.  When I have got across, run to Ellan as hard as you can tear, and tell them that we are cut off by the tide on the Stack.  They’ll bring round the life-boat.  It’s our only chance.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Montagu, terrified.  “Why, Eric, it’s death to attempt swimming that.  Heavens!” And he drew Eric back hastily, as another vast swell of water came rolling along, shaking its white curled mane, like a sea-monster bent on destruction.

“Monty, it’s no use,” said Eric hastily, tearing off his jacket and waistcoat; “I’m not going to let Russell die on that ledge of rock.  I shall try to reach him, whatever happens to me.  Here; I want to keep these things dry.  Be on the look out; if I get across, fling them over to me if you can, and then do as I told you.”

He turned round; the wave had just spent its fury, and knowing that his only chance was to swim over before another came, he plunged in, and struck out like a man.  He was a strong and expert swimmer, and as yet the channel was not more than a dozen yards across.  He dashed over with the speed and strength of despair, and had just time to clutch the rocks on the other side before the next mighty swirl of the tide swept up in its white and tormented course.  In another minute he was on the ledge by Russell’s side.