At the foot of the bank, on which sat the two fishers, ran the deep eddy, silent, and whirling about in a circular motion, caused by the impact of the brook against the shore, the waters being forced back on themselves. It was a quiet, and rather still pool, and was reputed to contain many fine, large fish.
"I—I think I have a nibble," whispered Alice.
"Be careful—don't jerk up too soon," warned Paul. "Yes, there is one after your bait. See your cork float bob up and down."
"Does that show he's sampling it?"
"Something of that sort, yes. Now, pull in!"
Alice was a bit slow about it, for she had not fished much. Paul, fearing the fish would get away, reached over toward her, and took hold of the pole himself.
As he did so he felt the part of the shelving bank on which they were sitting give away.
"Look out! Throw yourself back!" he cried to Alice. But it was too late, and the next instant they both found themselves sliding down in a little avalanche of earth and stones—into the deep eddy.
"Hold your breath!" Alice heard Paul cry as a last direction, and she obeyed.
The next instant she felt herself in the water, and it closed over her head.