leaving the raffle and jagged end of the mast to bump against us at the will of the waves.  In short, we were in a highly unpleasant predicament, when a coble or row-boat, carrying one small lug-sail, hove out of the dusk to our assistance.  It was manned by a crew of three, of whom the master (though we had scarce light enough to distinguish features) hailed us in a voice which was patently a gentleman’s.  He rounded up, lowered sail, and ran his boat alongside; and while his two hands were cutting us free of our tangle, inquired very civilly if we were strangers.  We answered that we were, and desired him to tell us of the nearest place alongshore where we might land and find a lodging for the night, as well as a carpenter to repair our damage.

“In any ordinary case,” said he, “I should ask you to come aboard and home with me.  But my house lies five miles up the lake; your boat is sinking, and the first thing is to beach her.  It happens that you are but half a mile from Ardlaugh and a decent carpenter who can answer all requirements.  I think, if I stand by you, the thing can be done; and afterwards we will talk of supper.”

By diligent baling we were able, under his direction, to bring our boat to a shingly beach, over which a light shone warm in a cottage window.  Our hail was quickly answered by a second light.  A lantern issued from the building, and we heard the sound of footsteps.

“Is that you, Donald?” cried our rescuer (as I may be permitted to call him).

Before an answer could be returned, we saw that two men were approaching; of whom the one bearing the lantern was a grizzled old carlin with bent knees and a stoop of the shoulders.  His companion carried himself with a lighter step.  It was he who advanced to salute us, the old man holding the light obediently; and the rays revealed to us a slight, up-standing youth, poorly dressed, but handsome, and with a touch of pride in his bearing.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”  He lifted his bonnet politely, and turned to our rescuer.  “Good evening, Mr. Gillespie,” he said—­I thought more coldly.  “Can I be of any service to your friends?”

Mr. Gillespie’s manner had changed suddenly at sight of the young man, whose salutation he acknowledged more coldly and even more curtly than it had been given.  “I can scarcely claim them as my friends,” he answered.  “They are two gentlemen, strangers in these parts, who have met with an accident to their boat:  one so serious that I brought them to the nearest landing, which happened to be Donald’s.”  He shortly explained our mishap, while the young man took the lantern in hand and inspected the damage with Donald.

“There is nothing,” he announced, “which cannot be set right in a couple of hours; but we must wait till morning.  Meanwhile if, as I gather, you have no claim on these gentlemen, I shall beg them to be my guests for the night.”

We glanced at Mr. Gillespie, whose manners seemed to have deserted him.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “Your house is the nearer,” said he, “and the sooner they reach a warm fire the better for them after their drenching.”  And with that he lifted his cap to us, turned abruptly, and pushed off his own boat, scarcely regarding our thanks.