"Yes; quick," cried the old man, as he tried hard to recover from the shock he had received; "we may stop him by the wheel here. Who was it?"

"Heaven knows," cried Gil; "don't stop to talk."

As he spoke he was already down on his knees beside the wheel, and made a snatch at something which was hitched on to one of the broad slimy paddles; but even as he stretched out his hand the shape glided away, and went over the fall with a shoot into the black water down below.

"For God's sake, be quick," cried the founder, "or he'll be drowned, whoever he is. Drop on to the stones below; the water is only a few inches deep at the side, and you may reach him as he comes up with the eddy."

Without a moment's hesitation Gil lowered himself over the wood-piles, and dropped with a splash on to the water-worn pebbles below, where there was a broad shelf before the water went sheer down ten or a dozen feet into a hole caused by the washing of the heavy stream that fell from above.

Overhung as it was by willows, and enclosed by slimy piles and masses of fern-hung rock, it was a gruesome place, at mid-day, with the sun shining. By night its very aspect would have been enough to deter most men from venturing to plunge in. It, however, had no deterrent effect upon Gil, who leaned forward, peering into the darkness, to see if he could reach the drowning man; but finding that he was swept away by the stream, and being drawn round by the eddy towards the falling torrent which came over in a sheet, he plunged boldly in, caught the first part of the drowning man's garments he could seize, and swam strongly towards the lower part of the waste water, where Wat Kilby was ready to give him a helping hand, half dragging him out, and at the same time whispering a few words in his ear.

Jeremiah Cobbe was beside them directly, eagerly asking who it was they had saved.

"It looks like your guest, Master Cobbe," said Gil sourly. "There, he is not drowned, but coming-to fast. I'll leave you to take him home; and, perhaps, you had better tell him to keep in the house at night, as you have taken to the bad habit of setting traps to catch your friends."

"Not for my friends, Gil Carr, but for those who act like rats or other vermin, and steal round my place at ungodly hours," cried the founder angrily.

"Call it what you will, Master Cobbe," said Gil, coldly, "I'll say good-night;" and without another word he walked away to change his wet garments, while the founder helped his half-drowned guest back to the house.

Volume 1, Chapter VI.

HOW WAT KILBY WENT WOOING.

Sir Mark's wound was of such a nature that, being a young and healthy man, it would soon have healed up; but his imprudence in leaving the house, and his immersion, gave matters so unfavourable a turn that next morning he was unable to leave his bed, and, on a messenger arriving from the Moat with Sir Thomas Beckley's inquiries how it was Sir Mark had not returned, he was sent back with the news of the young man's accident, nothing being mentioned about the sword-wound. The result was that Gil, in the course of the morning, when he happened to be strolling in that direction, met Sir Thomas and his daughter on their way to Roehurst, followed by a servant laden with a basket.

Mistress Anne's face turned white, then rosy red, as she saw Gil approach, and as her eyes met his they were full of reproach and angry resentment, which rapidly gave place to a girlish, half-playful manner as soon as Sir Thomas mentioned the cause of his visit.

"A perilous accident has befallen my guest, Captain Carr," said the baronet, pompously--"Sir Mark Leslie, a Scottish gentleman, a special messenger from his Majesty, who has come here on important business. He was nearly drowned last even, and is now ill abed. We have brought him some simples and medicaments of Dame Beckley's own preparation, and we hope soon to have him back."

"Oh, yes," said Mistress Anne, with a sigh, and a meaning look at Gil.

"He makes you a pleasant companion, Mistress Anne," said Gil, quietly.

"Oh, yes," she cried; "he is delightful--so much Court news--such polish; it is indeed a pleasure to meet a true gentleman down here."

"Which I am not, then," thought Gil.

"Will nothing move him to jealousy?" said Anne Beckley to herself; and with her eyes flashing angrily, she laid her hand on her father's arm, and after a polite salutation they passed on.

"Poor girl!" said Gil to himself. "I am not a vain man, but if she be not ogling, and cap-setting, and trying to draw me on at her apron-string, I am an ass. Why," he continued, turning to gaze after the little party just as Mistress Anne turned her own head quickly to look after him, and, seeing that he was doing the same, snatched herself away as if in dudgeon--"one would think that she was trying to draw me on by her looks, and seeking to make me jealous of this gay lad from town. Poor lass! it is labour in vain; and she would not cause me a pang if she married him to-morrow. What's that?"

"That" was a slight rustling noise amongst the trees, followed by a "clink-clink-clink" of flint against steel; and striding out of the path and going in the direction of the sound Gil came upon Wat Kilby, seated in a mossy nook, blowing at a spark in some tinder and holding his little pipe ready in his hand.

"Hollo, Wat!" cried Gil.

The gaunt old fellow went on blowing without paying the slightest heed to the summons, then applied a rough match dipped in brimstone, whose end, on application to the glowing spark in the tinder, first melted, and then began to burn with a fluttering blue flame. This was soon communicated to the splint of wood, and the flame was then carefully held in a scarlet cap taken from Wat's grizzly half-bald head for shelter from the soft summer breeze, while he held the bowl of his little pipe to it and solemnly puffed it alight, after which he rose from his knees, took up a sitting position with his back against an old beech, gazed up in the speaker's face and replied--

"Hollo, skipper!"

"I wanted to see you Wat," said Gil. "Look here, old lad, how came you to be hanging about the house last night when you gave the signal?"

"Hah!" ejaculated Wat, exhaling a thin puff of fine blue smoke and gazing straight before him through the sun-pleached foliage of the forest.

"Do you hear me?" cried Gil, impatiently, as he stamped his heavy foot upon the moss.

"Hah!" ejaculated Wat again. "I was there on the watch."

"Yes, yes; and what did you see?"

"Mas' Cobbe come out soon after you had gone across the little bridge and pook it out of the way."

"Yes, yes; go on."

"Then I give you the signal two or three times before I could make you hear, and just then I heard another step and hid away, and 'fore I had time to do more--in he went. You know."

"Yes; but look here, Wat, how came you to be there?"

"I was there to save my skipper from being pooked," growled Wat, slowly and between puffs of his pipe. "It was as if I had been sent on purpose."

"It's a lie," cried Gil, angrily. "Wat, you are an old trickster and a cheat. How dare you try to deceive me?"

"There," said Wat, quietly addressing a beech pollard before him; "that's gratitude for watching over and saving him from being pooked."

"Of course you saved me from danger, just as any brave man would try to save another, and more especially one of a crew, his skipper. There is no merit attached to that. Now look here, Wat, confess, for I am sure I know."

"I don't know about no confessing," growled Wat; "you're a skipper, not a priest. S'pose I asked you what you were doing there? If the captain sets such an example, what can you 'spect of the crew?"

Gil twisted his moustache angrily, and then turned sharply on his follower.

"You were not watching me?"

"I arn't going to tell no lies. No."

"You as good as say, then, that you were on the same errand as I?"

"I arn't going to sail round no headlands when there's a port right in front. I arn't ashamed. Yes, I were."

"Look here, Wat Kilby," said Gil, after taking a step or two up and down in front of the old fellow, who calmly leaned back and gazed straight before him--"look here, Wat Kilby, you have been like a second father to me."

"Hah!" And then a puff of smoke.

"And I would not willingly hurt your feelings."

"Hah!"

"But I hold in great respect the people who dwell in yon house, and I will not have them in anywise annoyed."

"Then I wouldn't go coming the Spanish Don, under their windows o'