After about an hour's rowing, during which the boat several times narrowly escaped being swamped, and was already more than half full of water, they arrived off the great cave, and could see the boiling surf as, sent back with force, it issued beneath the rock, with a music louder than thunder, while from the great cliffs overhead the water poured in a thick shower, as each receding wave left a part behind it. “The cobble” (so is the boat termed there) “is aye drawing in to shore,” said Sandy; “I trow we 'd better pull back, noo.” “Not till we 've seen Carrig-a-rede, surely,” said Daly, on whom danger acted like the most exciting of all stimulants. “Ye may go there by yersel,” said Sandy, “when ye put me ashore; I tauld you, I 'd no ga so far.” “Come, come, it's no time to flinch now,” said Daly; “turn her head about, and lean down to your oar.” “I 'll no do it,” said Sandy, “nor will I let you either.” And as he spoke, he leaned forward to take the oar from Daly's hand. The young man, irritated at the attempt, rudely repulsed him, and Sandy, whose temper, if not as violent, was at least as determined, grappled with him at once. “You'll upset the boat--curse the fellow!” said Daly, who now found that he had met his match in point of strength and daring. “Let go the oar, man,” cried Sandy, savagely. “Never,” said Daly, with a violent effort to free his hands. “Then swim for it, if ye like better,” said Sandy; and, placing one foot on the gunwale, he gave a tremendous push, and the next instant they were both struggling in the sea. For a long time they continued, almost side by side, to buffet the dark water; but at last Daly began to falter, his efforts became more labored, and his strength seemed failing; Sandy turned his head, and seized him in the very struggle that precedes sinking. They were still far from shore, but the hardy Northern never hesitated; he held him by the arm, and after a long and desperate effort succeeded in gaining the land. “Ye got a bra wetting for your pains, anyhow,” said Sandy; “but I 'm no the best off either: I 'll never see the cobble mair.” Such were the first words Bagenal Daly heard when consciousness returned to him; the rest of the story is soon told. Daly took Sandy into his service, not without all due thought and consideration on the latter's part, for he owned a small fishing-hut, for which he expected and received due compensation, as well as for the cobble and the damage to his habiliments by salt water,--all matters of which, as they were left to his own uncontrolled valuation, he was well satisfied with the arrangement; and thus began a companionship which had lasted to the very moment we have presented him to our readers.