manner across the little
bay, when he heard a pleasant voice say to him--

"I say, Evson, are you going to practise the old style of martyrdom--tie
yourself to a stake and let the tide gradually drown you?"

Looking round he was surprised to see Power standing alone on the sands,
and to see also that his little island was so far surrounded that he
could not get to shore without being wet up to the knees.

"Hallo!" he said; "I see I must take off my shoes and stockings, and
wade."

But on the slippery piece of rock upon which he was standing he had no
room to do this without losing his balance and tumbling over; so Power
had in a moment taken off his own shoes and stockings, turned up his
trousers above the knees, and waded up to him.

"Now," he said, "get on my back, and I'll carry you in unwetted."

"Thanks, Power," he said, as Power deposited him on the sand; "I'm much
obliged."

Not knowing whether Power would like to be seen with him or not, he
looked at him shyly, and was walking off in another direction, when
Power, who was putting on his stockings again, said to him playfully--

"What, Walter; haven't you the grace to wait for me, after my having
delivered you from such a noyade? Excuse my calling you Walter; I hear
Kenrick and Henderson do it, and somehow you're one of those fellows
whom one meets now and then, whose Christian name seems to suit them
more naturally than the other."

"By all means call me Walter, Power; and I'll wait for you gladly if you
like," said Walter, blushing as he added, "I thought you might not like
to walk with me."

"Not like? Nonsense. I should like it particularly. Let's take a turn
along the shore; we shall just have time before roll-call."

Walter pointed out to him the droll porpoises which had absorbed his
attention, and while they stood looking and laughing at them, Henderson
came up unobserved, and patting Walter on the back, observed
poetically--

"Why are your young hearts sad, oh beautiful children of morning?
Why do your young eyes gaze timidly over the sea?"

"Where _did_ you crib that quotation from, Flip," asked Power laughing;
"your mind's like a shallow brook, and the colour of it always shows the
stratum through which you have been flowing last."

"Shallow brook, quotha?" said Henderson; "a deep and mighty river, sir,
you mean; irresistible by any Power."

"Oh, _do_ shut up. Why was I born with a name that could be punned on?
No more puns