“Why does he not speak?”

“He is senseless.  Dinna move; the mist’s clearing, and you’ll see if he’s there syne.  The mist has been lifting and falling that way ilka minute since me and the grieve saw him.”

The mist did not rise.  It only shook like a blanket, and then again remained stationary.  But in that movement Gavin had seen twice, first incredulously. and then with conviction.

“Shepherd,” he said, rising, “it is Lord Rintoul.”

“Ay, it’s him; and you saw his feet was in the water.  They were dry when the grieve left me.  Mr. Dishart, the ground he is on is being washed awa bit by bit.  I tell you, the flood’s greedy for him, and it’ll hae him—–­Look, did you see him again?”

“Is he living?”

“We saw him move.  Hst!  Was that a cry?”

It was only the howling of the dog, which had recognized its master and was peering over the bank, the body quivering to jump, but the legs restless with indecision.

“If we were down there,” Gavin said, “we could hold him secure till rescue comes.  It is no great jump.”

“How far would you make it?  I saw him again!”

“It looked further that time.”

“That’s it!  Sometimes the ground he is on looks so near that you think you could almost drop on it, and the next time it’s yards and yards awa.  I’ve stood ready for the spring, Mr. Dishart, a dozen times, but I aye sickened.  I daurna do it.  Look at the dog; just when it’s starting to jump, it pulls itsel’ back.”

As if it had heard the shepherd, the dog jumped at that instant.

“It sprang too far,” Gavin said.

“It didna spring far enough.”

They waited, and presently the mist thinned for a moment, as if it was being drawn out.  They saw the earl, but there was no dog.

“Poor brute,” said the shepherd, and looked with awe at Gavin.

“Rintotil is slipping into the water,” Gavin answered.  “You won’t jump?”

“No, I’m wae for him, and—­”

“Then I will,” Gavin was about to say, but the shepherd continued, “And him only married twa hours syne.”

That kept the words in Gavin’s mouth for half a minute, and then he spoke them.

“Dinna think o’t,” cried the shepherd, taking him by the coat.  “The ground he is on is slippery.  I’ve flung a dozen stanes at it, and them that hit it slithered off.  Though you landed in the middle o’t, you would slide into the water.”

“He shook himsel’ free o’ me,” the shepherd told afterward, “and I saw him bending down and measuring the distance wi’ his een as cool as if he was calculating a drill o’ tatties.  Syne I saw his lips moving in prayer.  It wasna spunk he needed to pray for, though.  Next minute there was me, my very arms prigging wi’ him to think better o’t, and him standing ready to loup, has knees bent, and not a tremble in them.  The mist lifted, and I—–­Lads, I couldna gie a look to the earl.  Mr. Dishart jumped; I