while. John laid down his handkerchief full of cockles and began
to roll up his trousers higher. Jinny fairly danced with impatience.
He made a step or two forward--the water was up to his knees; he
walked on, plunging deeper at every step.

Suddenly Jinny uttered an even wilder and more piercing scream--John
had disappeared from her sight, and, for a moment, the only trace of
him which was evident was his hat rolling and tossing on the brown
wavelets. But, before she had time to reiterate the anguished cry, he
reappeared, pale and drenched, on the opposite bank.

"Run lass," he cried, "run quick an' fetch a rope, else I'll be
drowned. I can't get across the river--the water's nigh ower my head
as 'tis, an' my feet keep sinkin' into the mud."

Almost before he had ceased speaking Jinny had turned and was
staggering with trembling limbs towards the sandhills. How should she
get help in time? There was no habitation within a mile at least, and
the water was rising moment by moment. It would be better for him to
make a bold dash for safety now. Surely he could get across where he
had crossed before, by those brown stepping-stones.

What Jinny took for stepping-stones were in reality the remains of a
submerged forest, and no doubt, if John could have discovered their
whereabouts, would have afforded him a tolerably secure footing, but
they were indistinguishable now beneath the brown, swirling waters.
Oh! he would be drowned!--he would be drowned! The yielding sand
crumbling beneath Jinny's feet rendered her faltering progress even
more slow. She paused hesitating, ran distractedly backwards a few
paces; then, as John imperatively waved his arms, plunged forward
again and toiled up the slope. All at once her distracted eyes met
those of the girl from whom she had fled a little while before, the
cockling girl, who was seated very composedly on an out-jutting point
of the sandhill, whence she must have had a good view of John and his
recent struggle. Jinny, panting upwards, cast a desperate glance upon
her.

"For God's sake help me! My 'usband 'll be drowned before my e'en.
Wheer can we get help? Will ye run one way an' I'll tak' t' other?"

Sally looked down at the convulsed face. "I'm not goin' to run
noways," she retorted. "Run yoursel'; I'm not goin' to be sent o' your
arrands."

"But he'll be drowned!" gasped poor Jinny.

"He'll be a fool if he drowns then," retorted the girl with a sneer.
"He can get across e