The flaring rick sent a yellow light over them. The boats reeled and clashed together, and clashing drifted together with the tide up the river, past Coombe Cellars. Pooke, unable as he was to master his man, cast himself wholly into his adversary’s boat. Redmore had let go the oar, and now staggered to his feet. The men, wrestling, tossed in the rolling boat, fell, were up on their knees, and then down again in the bottom. “Quick, Kate!” shouted Jan. “I have him! Quick!--the string of my parcel.” Kate handed him what he desired. In another moment Pooke was upright. “He is safe,” said he, panting. “I have bound his wrists behind his back. Now--Kate!” The boats had run ashore, a little way above the Cellars, drifted to the strand by the flowing tide. “Kate,” said Pooke, jumping out, “you hold that cord--here. I have fastened it round the rowlock. He can’t release himself. Hold him, whilst I run for help. We will have him tried--he shall swing for this! Do you know that, Roger Redmore? What you have done is no joke--it will bring you to the gallows!” CHAPTER VII A RELEASE Kate sat in her boat holding the string that was twisted round the rowlock and that held Roger Redmore’s hands bound behind his back. He was crouched in the bottom of the boat, sunken into a heap, hanging by his hands. Now and then he made a convulsive effort with his shoulders to release his arms, but was powerless. He could not scramble to his feet, held down as he was behind. He turned his face, and from over Coombe Cellars, where the sky was alight with fire, a glow came on his countenance. “You be Kitty Alone?” said he. Kate hardly answered. Her heart was fluttering; her head giddy with alarm and distress, coming after a night’s exposure in the open boat. As yet, no sign of dawn in the east; only the flames from the burning farm-produce lighted up the sky to the south-west, and were reflected in the in-flowing water.