WHERE THE WAYS DIVIDE 223 



translucence of the water he could see the weed 

 moving and waving, a riot of labyrinthine colour, 

 and follow for a moment the darting shoals of silver 

 fish flashing through the green. 



What lay beyond ? The opposite shore, four 

 miles away, lay hazy and dim. Whatever fate 

 held in store, the struggle at least was his. Crash- 

 ing down through the underbrush, he took the 

 water, wading deep ere he struck out powerfully, 

 like the strong, expert swimmer he was. Every- 

 where was the rolling swell, and great baulks of 

 white driftwood washing shorewards with tlie tide. 



It was a longer distance than the swimmer had 

 ever tackled. Lakes and rivers, lagoons and wide 

 backwaters — he had crossed them all easily, but 

 this width of sinister-looking sea needed an effort 

 for its conquering. 



He did not strike sail to the momentary fear that 

 possessed him, but laboured on through the miles 

 mechanically, lessening the yards lying between 

 him and his goal at an amazing rate. His length 

 of head lay outstretched, crowned by the antlers 

 rising above the waste of waters like the skeleton 

 spars of some derelict fairy ship. 



His long, stilt-like legs touched bottom, and, by 



