In spring this cup shone emerald green; but now the place was grey and silver. Alders and sallows towered black against the bright water; sedges and reed mace had huddled into tangle of russet and amber. They brightened where the sun touched them and burned over the placid lake, while the highest colour note was a spindle tree, whereon hung its harvest of pink and orange fruit, though all the leaves were fled. The flame of it cast a brilliant reflection into the face of the mirror below; and as Ned and Jordan approached by a winding way, that skirted the mere, coot and moorhen scuttled off leaving double trains behind them, widening out upon the waters. Here it was that Kellock broached the great matter at his heart; and because it was at his heart, whereas he imagined it solely in his head, he found within the space of two minutes that he had made a very grievous mistake. Beside the lake spoke Jordan, while Ned had his eyes in the sedges and distant mud flats for a woodcock. “It’s about your wife I wanted to say a word, and I know we’re too good friends for you to object. You see, Ned, when you look at the past—” “To hell with the past,” answered Dingle shortly. “It’s the future I look at. You take my tip and keep out of this—specially seeing you wanted her yourself once.” “I must speak,” answered the vatman mildly, “and just for that reason, Ned. When she took you, you’ll remember I followed a very self-respecting line about it. But at your wish—at your wish, Ned—I kept my friendship for Medora and you; and it’s out of that friendship I want to say I think things might be bettered.” “She’s been washing our dirty linen for your pleasure then?” “Not at all. But—” “God damn it!” burst out the other. “Ain’t there to be any peace left in the world? You get out of this and keep out of it, or—” “Don’t be silly, Ned,—listen.” “To you? Not much. There’s some hooken-snivey going on here by the looks of it. Blast you—there—that’s my answer to you!” Dingle, in a white-hot passion, swung his arm, hit Kellock on the side of his head with a tremendous blow and knocked him down. They were on the edge of the lake and Medora’s champion rolled over and fell into water ten feet deep. He was stunned and sank, then came to the surface again. Ned’s rage vanished with the blow, for now he saw in a moment the gravity of the situation. Kellock appeared to be unconscious and would certainly drown if left in the water. The man on the bank flung himself upon his stomach, leant over, gripped his victim by the collar and dragged him breast high under the bank. In this position Kellock came at once to his senses. “I’m sorry—I’m cruel sorry,” said Dingle. “Lift up your hands and put ’em round my neck—then I’ll heave you out.” Kellock opened his eyes and panted, but did nothing for a moment. “For God’s sake make an effort—I can’t help you else. Get your arms round my neck, Jordan.”