This was the confusion and noise which Colonel Blood had heard when he took the last glance at Andrew Gamble, who was carried away by the stream.
But he never for a moment dreamed that all this distant hubbub was occasioned by the tight rope performance of his man, Jonas.
With a vigorous cut, the rope was at last severed!
Amid the shouts and cheers of the bystanders, Jonas fell from a height of twenty feet right into the deep mill-dam, with a loud splash!
“Fish him out, fish him out, lads; we musn’t let the rogue escape us now. He is one of those who rescued Bob Bertram.”
Poor Jonas rose to the surface, and in desperate despair clung to the branch of an overhanging tree, some distance from the edge of the dam.
In a moment the villagers were very busy with pitchforks, rakes, and the like, “fishing him out.”
One fellow, with more vigour than judgment, took aim with his long fork, but missed his distance, and gave Jonas a painful thrust in his seat of honour, instead of hooking his clothes, as intended.
“Five gold pieces to any one who secures the villain,” roared the chief constable, who now rushed upon the scene, puffing and blowing.
The promised reward caused a very great deal of excitement in those present.