with unusual haste and energy; her voice did not reach him, and he
wandered still further away from her, stooping ever and anon to
examine the sand. He had crossed the river some time before, and was
now pacing the opposite shore. The muddy waters of this little tidal
river had been shallow enough for him to wade through not half-an-hour
previously, but were now rising rapidly. He would find his return
difficult if not dangerous, and the difficulty and danger were
increasing every moment. When Jinny realised this, which she did
suddenly, she forgot all about her silk dress and her new boots, and
ran frantically towards the water's edge, screaming with all her
might; and at last John heard, and began to walk placidly towards the
spot where he had originally crossed. The mud banks were out of sight
now, and a broad belt of water was spreading rapidly on the other
side. It was advancing rapidly also at his rear; soon the stretch of
shore, half sand, half mud, on which he stood, would be entirely
submerged.

"John! John! coom ower at once!" screamed Jinny, as he paused, looking
about him.

"I'm in a fix," he called out. The breeze, which had baffled her
endeavours to make herself heard, bore, nevertheless, his words to
her. She beckoned and gesticulated, continuing her useless entreaties
the 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