'Go, if thaa wants.'

A mighty bound, and Captain was in mid-stream, and with a few
strong and rapid strokes he reached the sinking child. But the
flood-gates were open, the reservoir was emptying its overflow
down the steep falls into the Clough fifty yards below, and child
and dog were slowly but unmistakably being carried towards the
gorge.

Again the struggle commenced, and once more Moses was the prey of
the relentless reasoners--Love and Self.

'A man's life is worth more than a dog's,' cried Self.

'And more than a child's?' asked Love.

'But it's Oliver o' Deaf Martha's child, is it not?'

'And your dog is seeking to save it.'

'Shamed by a dog!' All the remains of the nobleness so long
dormant in the nature of Moses--the passion, and valour, and love
which he had allowed to die down long, long ago--awakened into
life. For the first time for thirty years he forgot himself, and
with a great light breaking round him, and sounds of sweetest
music in his heart, he leapt into the Lodge, struck out for the
struggling dog and its fainting burden, and strengthened and
steadied both to land.