Alas! it was too true. There, a yard above the one open hatchway,
through which the whole force of the stream was rushing, was the
unhappy Mops, alias Scratch, alias Dirty Dick, alias Jack Sheppard,
paddling, and sneezing, and winking, his little bald muzzle turned
piteously upward to the sky.

'He will be drowned!' quoth the colonel.

There was no doubt of it; and so Mops thought, as, shivering and
whining, he plied every leg, while the glassy current dragged him
back and back, and Honoria sobbed like a child.

The colonel lay down on the bridge, and caught at him: his arm was
a foot too short. In a moment the huge form of Tregarva plunged
solemnly into the water, with a splash like seven salmon, and Mops
was jerked out over the colonel's head high and dry on to the
bridge.

'You'll be drowned, at least!' shouted the colonel, with an oath of
Uncle Toby's own.

Tregarva saw his danger, made one desperate bound upward, and missed
the bridge. The colonel caught at him, tore off a piece of his
collar--the calm, solemn face of the keeper flashed past beneath
him, and disappeared through the roaring gate.

They rushed to the other side of the bridge--caught one glimpse of a
dark body fleeting and roaring down the foam-way. The colonel leapt
the bridge-rail like a deer, rushed out along the buck-stage, tore