Something terrible happened within me. The air around me became a red mist. I felt suddenly possessed of the strength of ten men. A frenzied desire to kill surged up at my heart. I caught sight of a moving figure scrambling over the rocks that ringed the Pool. I forgot my father; and with an insane fury of vengeance driving me on I plunged after the fugitive, howling and whooping like a crazed animal. He was making off towards the sandy bay. I could see it below me with the tumble-down jetty at its farther horn, and beyond was a little smack anchored a stone's throw from the shore out of reach of the worst of the breakers. I guessed that was his goal, and if he gained it he would beat off down the coast, where I couldn't hope to follow with the waves rolling in above my head. In a fog of rage and madness I stumbled after him, lumbering carelessly and making little ground; for he was nimble and trod lightly, leaping with ease and dexterity from rock to rock, in spite of the slippery weed which here began to drape them treacherously, still wet from the ebbing tide. Then came the short stretch of clear going before the jetty. I thought I might catch him there as he climbed the great obstacle, and I pressed forward, consciously snarling with anger and hate. He reached the space and ran; and I knew that if he slipped as he climbed the slimy stones I should have him. But he bore a little up to the left, and I saw he was making for a gap brokenly boarded in but with the planks and piles hanging awry. It might be possible there to leap without climbing. I hoped he would leap and fall. As my feet touched the sand I raced after him with a yell.