They were now close to the bridge.

“It’s very high up above the water,” said Harry, “and a good many boards are off:  I’d be afraid to go on it.”

“Coward!” sneered his brother.  “Are you afraid too, Ed?”

“Yes, I’m afraid to disobey my father; because that’s disobeying God.”

“Did your father ever say a word about not going on this bridge?”

“No; but he’s told me never to run into danger needlessly; that is when there’s nothing to be gained by it for myself or anybody else.”

“Before I’d be such a coward!” muttered Herbert, deliberately walking on to the bridge.

The other two boys watched his movements in trembling, breathless silence, while Uncle Joe began looking about for some means of rescue in case of accident.

Herbert picked his way carefully over the half-rotten timbers till he had gained the middle of the bridge, then stopped, looked back at his companions and pulling off his cap, waved it around his head, “Hurrah! here I am:  who’s afraid? who was right this time?”

Then leaning over the low railing, “Oh!” he cried, “you ought just to see the fish! splendid big fellows.  Come on, boys, and look at ’em!”

But at that instant the treacherous railing gave way with a loud crack, and with a wild scream for help, over he went, headforemost, falling with a sudden plunge into the water and disappearing at once beneath the surface.

“Oh he’ll drown! he’ll drown!” shrieked Harry, wringing his hands, while Eddie echoed the cry for help.

“Run to de house, Marse Ed, an’ fotch some ob de boys to git him out,” said Uncle Joe, hurrying to the edge of the stream with an old fishing-rod he had found lying among the weeds on its bank.

But a dark object sprang past him, plunged into the stream, and as Herbert rose to the surface, seized him by the coat-collar, and so holding his head above water, swam with him to the shore.

“Good Bruno! brave fellow! good dog!” said a voice near at hand, and turning to look for the speaker, Uncle Joe found Mr. Daly standing by his side.

Leaving his gayer companions, the minister had wandered away, book in hand, to this sequestered spot.  Together he and Uncle Joe assisted the dog to drag Herbert up the bank, and laid him on the grass.

The fall had stunned the boy, but now consciousness returned.  “I’m not hurt,” he said, opening his eyes.  “But don’t tell mother:  she’d be frightened half to death.”

“We’ll save her as much as we can; and I hope you’ve learned a lesson, young sir, and will not be so foolhardy another time,” said Mr. Daly.

“P’raps he’ll tink ole folks not such fools, nex’ time,” remarked Uncle Joe.  “Bless de Lord dat he didn’t get drownded!”

The men and boys came running from the house, bringing cloaks and shawls to wrap about the dripping boy.  They would have carried him back with them, but he stoutly resisted, declaring himself quite as able to walk as anybody.