One startled glance the youth flung down upon him, another in the direction of the voice, then, like a white, gleaming arrow he shot down, and disappeared in the dark pool below.
With his eyes upon the water the man awaited his reappearing. A half minute, a full minute he waited, but in vain. Swiftly he ran toward the edge of the pool. There was no sign anywhere of the youth.
Ghastly pale and panting, the man ran, as far round the base of the rock as the water would allow him, seeking everywhere signs of the swimmer.
“Hello, father! Oh, there you are!” Breaking through the bushes, a girl ran to him.
“What is it, pater? You are ill. What is the matter?”
“Good heavens! he was there!” gasped the man, pointing to the high rock. “He plunged in there.” He pointed to the pool. “He hasn't come up. He is drowned.”
“Who? What are you saying? Wake up, father. Who was there?”
“A boy! A young man! He disappeared down there.”
“A young man? Was he—was he—dressed?” inquired the girl.
“Dressed? No. No.”