Almost before he had ceased speaking Jinny had turned and was staggering with trembling limbs towards the sandhills.  How should she get help in time?  There was no habitation within a mile at least, and the water was rising moment by moment.  It would be better for him to make a bold dash for safety now.  Surely he could get across where he had crossed before, by those brown stepping-stones.

What Jinny took for stepping-stones were in reality the remains of a submerged forest, and no doubt, if John could have discovered their whereabouts, would have afforded him a tolerably secure footing, but they were indistinguishable now beneath the brown, swirling waters.  Oh! he would be drowned!—­he would be drowned!  The yielding sand crumbling beneath Jinny’s feet rendered her faltering progress even more slow.  She paused hesitating, ran distractedly backwards a few paces; then, as John imperatively waved his arms, plunged forward again and toiled up the slope.  All at once her distracted eyes met those of the girl from whom she had fled a little while before, the cockling girl, who was seated very composedly on an out-jutting point of the sandhill, whence she must have had a good view of John and his recent struggle.  Jinny, panting upwards, cast a desperate glance upon her.

“For God’s sake help me!  My ’usband ’ll be drowned before my e’en.  Wheer can we get help?  Will ye run one way an’ I’ll tak’ t’ other?”

Sally looked down at the convulsed face.  “I’m not goin’ to run noways,” she retorted.  “Run yoursel’; I’m not goin’ to be sent o’ your arrands.”

“But he’ll be drowned!” gasped poor Jinny.

“He’ll be a fool if he drowns then,” retorted the girl with a sneer.  “He can get across easy enough if he finds th’ reet place.”

“Oh, thank God for that!” cried Jinny with momentary hope.  “Will ye show me wheer’s th’ reet place, quick, for the wayter’s coomin’ in awful fast.  It’s down by th’ steppin’-stones yon, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” replied the girl, ‘it’s down theer; ye’d best go an’ look for ’em.”

“Eh dear! won’t ye show me?” cried Jinny wringing her hands.  “I’ll gi’e you all as I ‘ave i’ th’ world.  My watch, see—­an’ I’ve money i’ th’ box a’ whoam—­I’ll gi’e you everythin’.  Eh, do run down wi’ me now, else it’ll be too late.”

“I want noan o’ your brass an’ stuff,” cried Sally violently.  “He’s nought to me—­let him drown if he can’t save hissel’.  He’s yourn an’ not mine.  Ye’d best see to him.”

“Eh, you wicked, wicked wench!” sobbed Jinny. “’Owever can ye find it i’ your ’eart—­but I’ll waste no more time on you.”