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They listened, but no answer came, only the shriek of the gulls and the steady splash of the rain on the rocks.

“Never mind, we can’t be long before we get round to them,” said Bowler; “perhaps they’ve found a place, you know.”

For another half-hour they toiled on, Bowler blowing his whistle every few minutes, but always without response.

“Where can they be? We’re almost round at the place we started from, surely,” said Bowler, “and–hullo, look out there!”

They had reached a sudden break in the coast about twenty yards across, with rocks on each side which dropped almost precipitously into the water, forming a serious bar to further progress.

They must either scramble down and wade or swim across, or else turn inland and make a long detour round the head of the chasm.

Bowler made a careful inspection of the rocks, and then said–

“I think we could do it; what do you say? If we went round we might miss the others.”

“All wight,” said Braintree, blowing his hands; “I’m game, so’s Tubbs.”

Tubbs said nothing, but stood by miserably, ready to follow Bowler’s lead.

“I’ll go down first,” said the latter. “Mind how you come, the rocks are slippery.”

He lowered himself cautiously down the steep rock, finding just enough to cling on to with his hands, while he felt his way down with his feet. He got to the bottom safely, and found firm footing in a ledge of rock close to the water’s edge.

“Now, then,” shouted he, “down you come, Braintree.”

Braintree obeyed, and managed with difficulty to reach the ledge. Then Tubbs attempted. But he, poor fellow, clumsy at all times, and now utterly unnerved by the miseries of the day, was not man enough for the venture, and, after one feeble effort, begged to be allowed to stay where he was.

“Nonsense!” cried Bowler; “come on, old man, we’ll help you down all right.”

So Tubbs tried again. Had not the situation been so perilous, the appearance he presented as he clung wildly on to the rock with his hands, and kicked still more wildly with his feet, would have been ludicrous. But it was no time for joking. The two at the bottom piloted his feet as well as they could, and encouraged him in his downward career. But before they could reach him he slipped, and with a howl fell backward into the sea.

In a moment Bowler, dressed as he was, was in beside him, holding him up and striking out to where Braintree, with outstretched hand, waited to help them in. But it was long before they could haul his half-senseless form from the water; and by the time this was accomplished, Bowler himself was so exhausted that he in turn needed all Braintree’s aid to land himself. At last, however, all three were on the ledge.

But what were they to do next? Tubbs lay still half-stupefied, utterly unable to help himself. The rock they had descended frowned above them, defying any attempt to return the way they had come, and between the ledge they stood on and the rock the other side twenty yards of uneasy water intervened.

“Could we swim across with him?” said Bowler, after a little.

“I’ll do my best,” said Braintree.

“The thing is,” said Bowler, “the tide was dead out an hour ago, so it must be coming in now. Oh, what a cad I was to lead you into this, Braintree!”

“Shut up, old man, I say,” said Braintree; and he began to take off his coat and boots.

Bowler did the same.

“We shall have to leave them behind,” said he. “It can’t be helped. Are you ready?”

“Yes. But I say, old man, if I get done up and have to let go, don’t wait for me. I’m not much of a swimmer.”

Bowler hesitated.

“If I could only be sure of getting him over,” said he, pointing to Tubbs, “I might come back and–“