And then, from behind, there sprang on these three men three other men; and there were shouts, and blows, and words which Tom recollected to have heard before; and he shuddered and turned sick at them now, for he felt somehow that they were strange, and ugly, and wrong, and horrible.  And it all began to come back to him.  They were men; and they were fighting; savage, desperate, up-and-down fighting, such as Tom had seen too many times before.

And he stopped his little ears, and longed to swim away; and was very glad that he was a water baby, and had nothing to do any more with horrid dirty men, with foul clothes on their backs, and foul words on their lips; but he dared not stir out of his hole, while the rock shook over his head with the trampling and struggling of the keepers and the poachers.

All of a sudden there was a tremendous splash, and a frightful flash, and a hissing, and all was still.

For into the water, close to Tom, fell one of the men—­he who held the light in his hand.  Into the swift river he sank, and rolled over and over in the current.  Tom heard the men above run along, seemingly looking for him; but he drifted down into the deep hole below, and there lay quite still, and they could not find him.

Tom waited a long time, till all was quiet; and then he peeped out, and saw the man lying.  At last he screwed up his courage and swam down to him.  “Perhaps,” he thought, “the water has made him fall asleep, as it did me.”

Then he went nearer.  He grew more and more curious, he could not tell why.  He must go and look at him.  He would go very quietly, of course; so he swam round and round him, closer and closer; and, as he did not stir, at last, he came quite close and looked him in the face.

The moon shone so bright that Tom could see every feature; and, as he saw, he recollected, bit by bit; it was his old master, Grimes.

Tom turned tail, and swam away as fast as he could,

“Oh dear me!” he thought, “now he will turn into a water baby.  What a nasty, troublesome one he will be!  And perhaps he will find me out, and beat me again.”

So he went up the river again a little way, and lay there the rest of the night under an alder root; but when morning came, he longed to go down again to the big pool, and see whether Mr. Grimes had turned into a water baby yet.

So he went very carefully, peeping round all the rocks, and hiding under all the roots.  Mr. Grimes lay there still; he had not turned into a water baby.  In the afternoon Tom went back again.  He could not rest till he had found out what had become of Mr. Grimes.  But this time Mr. Grimes was gone; and Tom made up his mind that he was turned into a water baby.

He might have made himself easy, poor little man; Mr. Grimes did not turn into a water baby, or anything like one at all.  But he did not make himself easy; and a long time he was fearful lest he should meet Grimes suddenly in some deep pool.  He could not know that the fairies had carried him away, and put him, where they put everything which falls into the water, exactly where it ought to be.