"He can't " said Daisy.
"Yes, he can," said Preston. "If he can't, he isn't worth his bread and salt. That's it, Sam hand over hand, and you'll be there directly."
Sam showed what he could do, if he did not like it; for he worked himself up the tall tree like a monkey. It was not so large but he could clasp it; so after a little rough work on his part, and anxious watching on Daisy's, he got to the branches. But now the line was caught in the small forks at the leafy end of the branch. Sam lay out upon it as far as he dared; he could not reach the line.
"Oh, he'll fall!" cried Daisy, softly. "Oh, Preston, let him come down! he can't get it."
"He'll come to no harm," said Preston, coolly. "A little further, Sam it's oak wood, it will hold you; a little further, and you will have it a little further! "
And Daisy saw that Sam had gone too far. The bough swayed, Sam made a lunge after the line, lost his hold, and the next minute his dark body was falling through the air and splashed into the pool. The water flew all over the two fishers who stood by its side; Preston awe-struck for the moment, Daisy white as death. But before either of them could speak or move, Sam's head reappeared above water.
"Oh, get him out! get him out, Preston!" was Daisy's distressed cry. Preston spoke nothing, but he snatched a long stick that lay near, and held it out to Sam; and so in a few minutes drew him to the shore and helped him out. Sam went to a little distance and stood dripping with water from head to foot; he did not shake himself, as a Newfoundland dog would have done.
"Are you hurt, Sam?" said Preston.
"No, sir " Sam answered, in a tone as if he felt very wet.
"Well, you've cleared the line for me at last," said Preston. "All's well that ends well. Hollo! here's my hook gone, broken off, float and all. Where's that basket, Sam?"