THE DOCTOR S PLUNGE. 33 



" He can't have it, John." 



We were now close over the deep hole. The stream 

 was here some forty feet across, and took a short turn 

 to the westward ; the result was a deep undermining of 

 the left bank. Close to the edge was the stump of a 

 large tree ; the roots went into the water in a dozen 

 strange twists and curves. But they prevented the fur- 

 ther washing away of the bank, and the result was a deep 

 hole, in which the trout found refuge. 



" Wait, just one second, till I look over !" said the Doc- 

 tor; and, dropping on his hands and knees, he crept to 

 the edge of the overhanging bank, and leaned as far over 

 the water as his neck and arms would allow. The view 

 of the somewhat ponderous body of the learned fisher- 

 man, in this peculiar posture, was not a little picturesque ; 

 but how much more so was it when the edge of the bank 

 suddenly gave way, and the descending head of the Doc- 

 tor vanished and his feet followed with a celerity that 

 was most remarkable. A guttural " Phil — up — up — pub. " 

 — a tremendous splash, a white foam flying into the air — 

 and it was all over. 



Perhaps you think we rushed to the rescue. We did 

 no such thing. We sat down on the ground and shouted ; 

 we rolled among the dead leaves and rent the air with 

 our shrieks. When we could speak we thought of the 

 Doctor's probable fate, and then looked toward the water 

 for the first time. 



There was his face — ghastly and alarmingly severe. 

 He had one of the roots in both hands. It was pretty 

 far under water, and required a severe stretch for him to 

 keep his chin above. This he had accomplished ; but 

 he could not raise his eyes to the level of the bank, and 

 could only gather from our shouts in what way we were 



C 



