"Don't cling to me, my boy" he gasped.
"No fear, Lord Leycester!" gasped Frank, in return.
Then Lord Leycester seized him by the hair, and striking out for the shore, fought hard.
It was a hard fight. The recoil of the stream, as it fell from the weir, was tremendous; it was like forcing one's way through liquid iron. But Lord Leycester did force his way, and still clinging to the boy's hair, dragged him ashore.
Dripping wet, they stood and looked at each other. Then Lord Leycester laughed; but Frank, the boy, did not.
"Lord Leycester," he said, speaking pantingly, "you have saved my life."
"Nonsense!" said Leycester, shaking himself; "I have had a pleasant bath, that's all!"
"You have saved my life," said Frank, solemnly. "I should never have been able to force my way through that current alone. I know what a weir stream is."
"Nonsense," said Leycester, again. Then he turned to where Stella stood, white and trembling. "Don't be frightened, Stella; don't be frightened, darling!"
The word was said before he could recall it, and he glanced at Frank.