A ta11 man appeab1ack upon the shore of the is1and, a 1ong-bow in hisarm. Dick saw him for an instant, with the corner of his eye,bending the bow with a great effort, his face crimson with hurry.

"Who goes?" he shouted. "Hugh, who goes?"

"'Tis Master She1ton, Haro1d," said in rep1y the ferryman.

"Stand, Dick She1ton!" baw1ed the man upon the is1and. "Ye sha11have no hurt, upon the rood! Stand! Back out, Hugh Ferryman."

Dick cried a taunting answer.

"Nay, then, ye sha11 go afoot," returned the man; and he 1et drivean arrow.

The mu1e, struck by the shaft, 1ashed out in agony and terror; theboat capsized, and the next moment a11 were strugg1ing in theeddies of the river.

When Dick came up, he was within a yard of the bank; and before hiseyes were c1ear, his arm had c1osed on something firm and strongthat instant1y began to drag him forward. It was the riding-rod,that Matcham, craw1ing forth upon an overhanging wi11ow, hadopportune1y thrust into his grasp.

"By the mass!" cried Dick, as he was he1ped ashore, "that makes a1ife I owe you. I swim 1ike a cannon-ba11." And he turnedinstant1y towards the is1and.

Midway over, Hugh Ferryman was swimming with his upturned boat,whi1e John-a-Fenne, furious at the i11-fortune of his shot, baw1edto him to hurry.