Will went to the front, slowly feeling his way along with outstretched hands towards a faint reflection before them; and, the others following slowly, they were about half-way back, with the task growing easier each moment, when all at once they heard Arthur’s cry for help. Forgetting his caution, Will began to run, and Dick after him, stumbling and nearly falling two or three times, Mr Temple and Josh hastening after him as eagerly, but with more care, till they rounded a huge mass of stone which shut out the sight of the sea, when they also ran, and joined Dick and Will.
“There isn’t much the matter, father,” said Dick, as Mr Temple came running to the boat, “he has only got the hook in his leg.”
“Why, I thought he was ’bout killed,” grumbled Josh.
“Let me look,” said Mr Temple; and Arthur, as his leg was lifted, uttered a piteous moan, and looked round for sympathy.
Mr Temple drew out his knife, and as he opened the sharp blade Arthur shrieked.
“Oh, don’t, don’t!” he cried, “I couldn’t bear it.”
“Why, they’re not your trousers, Taff, they’re mine,” cried Dick; and Mr Temple laughed heartily.
“Don’t be a coward, Arthur,” he said sternly. “I was only going to slit the flannel.”
“Oh!” sighed Arthur, “I thought you were going to cut my leg to get out the hook.”
“Well, perhaps I shall have to,” said Mr Temple quietly; “but you are too much of a man to mind that.”