Russell stood on the rock pale and irresolute. Once or twice he prepared
to spring, and stopped from fear at the critical instant. In truth, the
leap was now most formidable; to clear it was hopeless; and the fury of
the rock-tormented waves rendered the prospect of a swim on the other
side terrible to contemplate. Once in the grasp of one of those billows,
even a strong man must have been carried out of the narrow channel, and
hurled against the towering sweep of rocks which lay beyond it.

"Oh Edwin, Edwin--dear Edwin--_do_ jump," cried Eric with passionate
excitement. "We will rush in for you."

Russell now seemed to have determined on running the risk; he stepped
back, ran to the edge, missed his footing, and with a sharp cry of pain,
fell heavily forward into the water. For an instant, Eric and Montagu
stood breathless,--but the next instant, they saw Russell's head emerge,
and then another wave foaming madly by, made them run backwards for
their lives, and hid him from their view. When it had passed, they saw
him clinging with both hands, in the desperate instinct of
self-preservation, to a projecting bit of rock, by the aid of which he
gradually drew himself out of the water, and grasping at crevices or
bits of seaweed, slowly and painfully reached the ledge on which they
had stood before they took the leap. He presented a pitiable spectacle;
his face, pale as death, was dabbled with blood; his head drooped on his
breast; his clothes were torn, and streamed with the salt water; his cap
was gone, and the wet hair, which he seemed too exhausted to push aside,
hung over his forehead and eyes. He was evidently dizzy, and in pain;
and they noticed that he only seemed to use one foot.

While he was regaining the ledge, neither of the boys spoke, lest their