Resting his gun against a tree, Barcroft descended with considerable agility till he gained the brink of the torrent. The two dogs, unused to the sight of their master on his hands and knees, capered behind him. To his disgust he found that the lost head-gear was just beyond the reach of his outstretched hand.
He was not going to be done, he reflected stubbornly. By grasping the stem of a hazel that grew close to the stream he could lean out further without losing his balance.
The stem seemed stout and supple enough, but unfortunately its looks belied its actual strength. It parted, and the next instant Peter was struggling in the foaming torrent.
Flung against the hollowed water-course with a thud that almost deprived him of the little stock of breath left after his sudden immersion in the icy water, Barcroft was unable to make an effort to save himself from being swept over a miniature waterfall. Full six feet he fell; then, almost blinded by the spray that enveloped his head, he found himself struggling in a small but powerful eddy, while the rocks that almost surrounded the pool were too high and too slippery to afford a hand-grip.
Upon seeing their master topple into the stream Ponto and Nan leapt in after him, although Peter was then ignorant of the fact. Swimming ineffectually against the strength of the current both dogs were swept away, without being able to be of the slightest assistance, through a portion of the water course which, though only a couple of feet across at the top, had been worn away to four times that distance underneath.
Meanwhile Siegfried von Eitelwurmer was stolidly contemplating the catastrophe. He saw the two animals being swept away, and marked the semi-subterranean channel. A man carried under those overhanging rocks stood little chance of escape. Even if Barcroft were able to resist the remorseless pressure of water that threatened to sweep him through the contracted gully the numbing effect of the water would quickly tell. Yet the luckless man maintained silence; not a cry for assistance came from his lips.
From the path only the tip of Peter's head was visible. The spy still stood immovable. He had no wish for his unfortunate companion to witness his apathy. He chuckled with fiendish glee. Fate was playing into his hands.
Suddenly a maddening thought flashed across his mind. Barcroft drowned—inquest—verdict: "Accidental Death." Would the German Government pay the blood-money in these circumstances? He doubted it. Being a Hun he had no faith in a Hun's interpretation of the accident.
It was not a sense of duty, the call for heroic action, that spurred von Eitelwurmer to the rescue. With admirably acted zeal he descended the declivity, and followed the bank until he reached the pool in which Peter was still maintaining a precarious foothold.
Grasping the benumbed man's wrists he exerted his full strength in an attempt to extricate him. The effort was in vain: Barcroft, encumbered with his saturated clothing and now too exhausted to help himself, was too heavy to be hauled into safety.