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 voices should startle him, and make him fall; but now, they both cried out, “Are you hurt, Edwin?” He did not answer, but supported his pale face on one hand, while he put the other to his head, from which the blood was flowing fast. “O Edwin, for the love of God, try once more,” said Montagu; “you will die if you spend the night on that rock.” They could not catch the reply, and called again. The wind and waves were both rising fast, and it was only by listening intently, that they caught the faint words, “I can’t, my leg is hurt.” Besides, they both saw that a jump was no longer possible; the channel was more than double the width which it had been when Eric leaped, and from the rapid ascent of rocks on both sides, it was now far out of depth. “O God, what can we do,” said Montagu, bursting into tears. “We can never save him; and all but the very top of the Stack is covered at high tide.” Eric had not lost his presence of mind. “Cheer up, Edwin,” he shouted; “I _will_ get back to you somehow. If I fail, crawl up to the top again.” Again the wind carried away the reply, and Russell had sunk back on the rock.