After this had endured for some time, though still the black torrent rushed on impetuously as ever, Demdike turned to the abbot and said,-- "Your vengeance has been fully gratified. You will now baptise my child?" "Never, never, accursed being!" shrieked the abbot. "Thou mayst sacrifice her at thine own impious rites. But see, there is one poor wretch yet struggling with the foaming torrent. I may save him." "That is John Braddyll, thy worst enemy," replied Demdike. "If he lives he shall possess half Whalley Abbey. Thou hadst best also save Richard Assheton, who yet clings to the great stone below, as if he escapes he shall have the other half. Mark him, and make haste, for in five minutes both shall be gone." "I will save them if I can, be the consequence to myself what it may," replied the abbot. And, regardless of the derisive laughter of the other, who yelled in his ears as he went, "Bess shall see thee hanged at thy own door!" he dashed down the hill to the spot where a small object, distinguishable above the stream, showed that some one still kept his head above water, his tall stature having preserved him. "Is it you, John Braddyll?" cried the abbot, as he rode up. "Ay," replied the head. "Forgive me for the wrong I intended you, and deliver me from this great peril." "I am come for that purpose," replied the abbot, dismounting, and disencumbering himself of his heavy cloak. By this time the two herdsmen had come up, and the abbot, taking a crook from one of them, clutched hold of the fellow, and, plunging fearlessly into the stream, extended it towards the drowning man, who instantly lifted up his hand to grasp it. In doing so Braddyll lost his balance, but, as he did not quit his hold, he was plucked forth from the tenacious mud by the combined efforts of the abbot and his assistant, and with some difficulty dragged ashore. "Now for the other," cried Paslew, as he placed Braddyll in safety. "One-half the abbey is gone from thee," shouted a voice in his ears as he rushed on. Presently he reached the rocky fragment on which Ralph Assheton rested. The latter was in great danger from the surging torrent, and the stone on which he had taken refuge tottered at its base, and threatened to roll over. "In Heaven's name, help me, lord abbot, as thou thyself shall be holpen at thy need!" shrieked Assheton. "Be not afraid, Richard Assheton," replied Paslew. "I will deliver thee as I have delivered John Braddyll."