other side?

Appearances were against Hilary, and he saw that they were. In fact, so
black was the lookout, that he half thought of finding a shallow place
and standing there amongst the waterlilies, laughing at his pursuers.

"Only it would look so stupid," he muttered; "and I should be obliged to
come out at last."

He was striking out pretty well, and, but for the fact that his late
exertions had told upon him, he felt that he would have got across with
ease.

"It's too bad, though," he thought; "and Sir Henry isn't half the fellow
I thought him if he allows me to be taken. Hullo! Hurrah! Down they
go!" he exclaimed, as, straining his eyes towards the bridge, he saw one
man trip and fall out of sight behind the low wall and another go over
him.

This reanimated him; and, taking long, slow strokes, he was soon pretty
close to the farther side, with the determination in him strong to get
away.

Fortunately he had retained the cutlass; and as he reached the bank and
scrambled out, dripping like some huge Newfoundland dog, Allstone came
panting up and seized him by the collar.

"Not this time, my lad," he growled, showing his teeth. "You thought
you had done it, didn't you?"

"Let go!" panted Hilary, as the water streamed down and made a pool.

"Yes, when I've got you in a safer place," was the reply.

"Here, come along, you two. No; one of you fetch a rope."

This was to his followers, one of whom was limping, and the other
bleeding from a cut in the face caused by his fall.

"Will you let go?" cried Hilary hoarsely, but fast regaining his breath.

"There, it's no use for you to struggle, my boy," said Allstone.
"Murder! Here! Help!"

Hilary had glanced round and taken in his position. Sir Henry was
standing holding Adela, who had hidden her face in his breast so as not
to see the struggle, while her father made no attempt to interfere. The
two men were close up; and as Allstone held him firmly he felt that he
was about to be dragged back to his prison like some drowned rat, and he
vowed that he would not give up if he died for it.

For Hilary's blood was now up, and, wrenching himself round, he got hold
of the hilt of the cutlass, where it stuck in his belt, dragged it out,
and in doing so struck his captor beneath the chin with the pommel.

So sharp was the blow that Allstone quitted his hold, uttering hoarse
cries, and staggered back two or three yards, while Hilary drove him
farther by