thought occurred to him, but in an instant sank back under the leaves.

"How would her mistress fare without her?" he said ruefully "'Tis not to
be thought of; they may be miles from home, even here, and I am too much
a squire of dames to take such unkind advantage. There must be some
other way out of my present dilemma than this," and rolling over on the
mixture of grass and dry leaves which formed his resting-place he lay
still and began to ponder.

Half an hour passed; the shadows began to deepen as the sun crept down
in the sky, and the horses whinnied at each other as if to remind their
absent riders that supper-time was approaching. But the girls did not
return, and the thoughts which occupied the young wanderer were so
engrossing that he did not hear a cry which began faintly and then rose
to a shriek agonized enough to pierce his reverie.

"Good heavens!" he cried, springing to his feet, as borne on the summer
wind the frantic supplication came to him--

"Help, help! oh, will nobody come!" and then the sobbing cry
again--"help!"

Tim tall muscular form straightened itself and sped through the bushes,
crushing them down on either side with a strong arm, as he went rapidly
in the direction of the cries.

"Courage! I am coming," he cried, as, gaining the shore of the pond, he
saw what had happened. Just beyond his halting-place there was a jutting
bank, and overhanging it a large tree, whose branches almost touched the
water beneath. At the top of the bank stood the elder of the two girls;