Lord Newhaven seized up a fishing-tin and thrust it into Doll’s hands.

“You bale while I row,” he said, and he rowed as he had never rowed before.

“Who is it?” he said, as the boat shot out into the open.

Doll was baling like a madman.

“Scarlett,” he said.  “And he’s over one of the springs.  He’ll get cramp.”

Lord Newhaven strained at the oars.

* * * * *

Consciousness was coming back, was slowly climbing upwards, upwards through immense intervals of time and space, to where at last, with a wrench, pain met it half-way.  Hugh stirred feebly in the dark of a great forlornness and loneliness.

“Rachel,” he said—­“Rachel.”

His head was gently raised, and a cup pressed to his lips.  He swallowed something.

He groped in the darkness for a window, and then opened his eyes.  Lord Newhaven withdrew a pace or two, and stood looking at him.

Their eyes met.

Neither spoke; but Hugh’s eyes, dark with the shadow of death, said plainly, “Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?”

Then he turned them slowly, as an infant turns them to the sky, the climbing woods, leaning over each other’s shoulders to look at him, to the warm earth on which he lay.  At a little distance was stretched a small rough-haired form.  Hugh’s eyes fixed on it.  It lay very still.

“Crack,” he said, suddenly, raising himself on his elbow.

There was neither speech nor language.  Crack’s tail, that courteous member, made no sign.

“He was under the boat,” said Lord Newhaven, looking narrowly at the exhausted face of the man he had saved, and unable for the life of him to help a momentary fellow-feeling about the little dog.

Hugh remembered.  It all came back, the boat, Crack’s dying gasps, the agonized struggle, the strait gate of death, the difficult passage through it, the calm beyond.  He had almost got through, and had been dragged back.

“Why did you interfere?” he said, in sudden passion, his eyes flaming in his white face.

A dull color rose to Lord Newhaven’s cheek.

“I thought it was an accident,” he said.  “If it was not, I beg your pardon.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“It was an accident,” said Hugh, hoarsely, and he turned on his elbow and looked fixedly at the water, so that his companion might not see the working of his face.

Lord Newhaven walked slowly away in the direction of Doll, whose distant figure, followed by another, was hurrying towards them.

“And so there is a Rachel as well, is there?” he said to himself, vainly trying to steel himself against his adversary.

“How is he now?” said Doll, coming within ear-shot.

“He’s all right; but you’d better get him into dry clothes, and yourself, too.”

“Change on the bank,” said Doll, seizing a bundle from the keeper.  “It’s as hot as an oven in the sun.  Why, Scarlett’s sitting up!  I thought when we laid into him on the bank that he was too far gone, didn’t you?  I suppose”—­hesitating—­“Crack?”