His companions watched their progress with burning anxiety, and hope rose high within them as they saw how easily the dog swam; for they were confident that while Pirate floated Yaspard was safe.
Yaspard was not so confident himself after being in the water some time, and he frequently found himself obliged to pause and rest his hands on the dog. They were greatly helped by the tide flowing towards Burra Isle. Indeed, Yaspard would not have started on such a dangerous voyage if he had not calculated that he must receive great assistance from the sea itself. All he had to do was to keep himself afloat and drift with the current; but, as all swimmers know, it is often as trying to do that as to breast an opposing force.
He found infinite comfort in the companionship of his faithful dog, and frequently spoke to him—more for the purpose of encouraging his own heart than because Pirate needed words of cheer.
But that piece of water seemed very broad, and there seemed for ever sounding in our hero's ears the refrain of an old song with which Mam Kirsty used to lull Signy to sleep in her baby days—
"My cradle and my grave is the deep deep sea."
Yet Yaspard was not the least afraid, and only thought, even when those doleful words seemed to ring like a knell through the roar of the waves, "Tom will be saved if I reach the shore, and if I don't, Pirate is sure to land and make his way to a house at once. That will tell as well as any words of mine."
He was very nearly exhausted when at last he found himself in shallow water; so, putting on a desperate spurt, he managed to reach a sandy creek where a landing could be easily made. But as he staggered up from the water, thanking God in his heart, a sudden weakness overpowered him, and he fell senseless on the sand. Pirate had reached land before his master, and was shaking himself vigorously when Yaspard dropped. The wonderful dog-intellect at once divined that something must be very far wrong, and he sniffed around the motionless form, with deep anxiety expressed in every gesture and in the low whining noise he made.
At last, when he found that Yaspard did not stir, Pirate determined upon seeking help without further delay. With a piteous howl he turned from the spot and bounded up the hill, making for the nearest habitation or human being with the unerring instinct of his race.
[1] Keen.