“The good stout oak cudgels I had cut; and if we’re lucky, my lad, we shall have as nice and pleasant a fight as ever we two had in our lives.”
“Quite a treat, sir,” said the old sailor; “and I hope we shall be able to pay our debts.”
The Captain was in the highest of glee all the evening, and he shook his son’s hand very warmly when they parted for bed.
About one o’clock Nic was aroused from a deep sleep by a sharp knocking at his door.
“Awake, Nic?” came in the familiar accents.
“No, father. Yes, father. Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? No, my boy; right! Hear the fall?”
“No, father; I was sound asleep.”
“Open your window and put out your head, boy. The water’s coming down and roaring like thunder. Good-night.”
Nic slipped out of bed, did as he was told, and, as he listened, there was the deep, musical, booming sound of the fall seeming to fill the air, while from one part of the ravine a low, rushing noise told that the river must be pretty full.