would have been all that I could have taken,
and then I might have gone down, but a hand was stretched-out and caught
me by the collar, and Morgan's voice whispered--

"No, no, my lad, leave it to them."

And now for the first time, in a confused way, I understood that
Hannibal and Pompey were swimming to my father's help, while I remained
clinging there.

More misty than ever all that follows seems, but I have a recollection
of seeing the two black heads nearing where my father was still
struggling to keep afloat, drifting farther and farther away, and next
of his being close up to the great fork of the tree some dozen yards
from where we clung.

It was no easy task to join them, but the danger was past now, and after
a rest we three--Morgan, Sarah, and myself--managed to get along the
bough to where we could reach another, lower down, and level with the
water.

The rest was simple, and before many more minutes had elapsed, we were
all gathered together in the great fork among the huge branches,
wringing away part of the water that drenched us, and mentally thankful
for our narrow escape from death as we revelled in the warm beams of the
sun.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

Very little was said for some time, every one being glad of the calm and
silence, and drawing in the genial warmth which was delicious to our
cramped and thoroughly weary limbs.

And as I sat there, gazing out over the waters at what seemed to be a
vast lake, it did not appear like a scene of desolation, for the
sunbeams danced on the rippled water, or turned it to a glittering
mirror, where it flowed calm and still; the trees stood out at intervals
all green and beautiful; and the forest beyond the clearings, though
dwarfed, was unchanged. Now and then a fish flashed out like a bar of
silver, and the birds twittered, piped, and sang as if nothing had
happened. It was only the poor human beings who were helpless, and
beginning to feel, now that the excitement had passed, the pangs of a
trouble that it was impossible to meet.

One of my first acts, as soon as I began to grow dry and warm, was to
take my knife from my pocket and cut a notch in the tree just on a level
with the water.

Pomp looked at me and then shook his head.

"No," he said; "no, Mass' George, no get sug gum dah, an' Pomp dreffle
hungry."

"I know that," I said, rather surlily, for my notch was not meant for
the purpose he thought, and I knew the difference between a cypre