“Where does the noise come from?” I said, feeling startled at the alarming nature of the cries, freshly awakened as I was from sleep.
“I can hardly tell,” he said, seizing the lantern and taking a sharp hold, of his stick. “Bring a stick with you, my boy, for there may be enemies in the way.”
“Why, uncle,” I cried, “some poor creature has fallen from the side path into the dam.”
“Some wretched drunken workman then,” he said, as we hurried in the direction, and there seemed to be no doubt about it now, for there was the splashing of water, and the cry of “Help!” while Piter barked more furiously than ever.
We ran down to the edge of the dam, the light of the bull’s-eye flashing and dancing over the ground, so that we were able to avoid the different objects lying about; and directly after the light played on the water, and then threw into full view the figure of the bull-dog as he stood on the stone edge of the dam barking furiously at a man’s head that was just above the surface of the water.
“Help! Help!” he cried as we drew near, and then I uttered a prolonged “Oh!” and stood still.
“Quiet, Piter! Down, dog! Can’t you see it is a friend!”
But the dog seemed to deny it, and barked more furiously than ever.
“Quiet, sir! Here, Cob, lay hold of the lantern. Will you be quiet, dog! Lay hold of him, Cob, and hold him.”
I obeyed in a half stupid way, holding the lantern with one hand, as I went on my knees, putting my arm round Piter’s neck to hold him back; and in that way I struggled back from the edge, watching my uncle as I made the light fall upon the head staring wildly at us, a horrible white object just above the black water of the dam.