e the village. Here there was a broad gap through
the jagged reef which fringed the shore, and through this gap the
fishermen's boats had shot in fair or foul weather for more generations
than men could remember.

Casely said to one of the women--

"He'll be all right if he comes in to the north of the Cobbler. If he
doesn't, it's a bad job."

The Cobbler's Seat was one of a pair of huge rocks, which lay right in
the very gap wherethrough the boats had to run in. A progressive people
would have had the impediments blasted away, but the fisher-folk were
above all things conservative, and so the Cobbler remained year after
year to make the inward passage exciting. When the tide was running in
hard, a boat attempting the south passage was certain to be taken in a
nasty swirling eddy, and dashed heavily against the big stone. When any
sea was on, the run in required much nicety of handling.

Ellington had been told long ago that he must keep the church tower and
the flagstaff in one if he wanted to hit the gap fairly. He carried out
his instruction as well as he knew how.

The boat came dashingly in, flinging the spray gallantly aside as she
ducked and plunged in the short sea.

Casely saw that Ellington was going wrong. For an instant he had an
ungenerous thought. "Should I save him?" He shook himself as though he
were shaking off water, and sang out with all the strength of his
tremendous voice--"Hard down with it!" He waved to the northward with
passionate energy. But it was too late. The boat staggered as the eddy
hit her, swerved sharp to starboard, and took in a great plash of water,
then she struck the Cobbler, and kept repeating the blow with vicious,
short bumps that stove in her head. Ellington sprang out, and got a
foothold. He seized the girl, and dragged her beside him. The boat
turned clumsily over, and swirled away past. Then the wrecked couple
climbed out of reach of the lunging waves, and stood breathless. Casely
said, "That's a bad job, Jinny. The Cobbler'll be covered half a fathom
in forty minutes' time."

The woman he spoke to was his cousin. She said, "Can he swim?"

"Him! The big baby! He never could do anything like a man since the day
he was whelped. Old John Ellington would have had the lass half-way
ashore by this time."

"Let him drown!" This unladylike speech came from Jinny, who had been
very fond of Mary Casely.

"No! no!" said Casely, frowning heavily, "I'll not do that, Jinny. Te