All about Winton the banks of the main streams are pierced at intervals to admit runlets of clear water into the meadows below. Such a boring there was of a goodish caliber at the point where we stopped; and here the water, breaking through in a little fall, tumbled into a stone basin, some three feet square and five deep, that was sunk to its rim in a rough trench of the meadow soil. Into this brimming trough a young girl had slipped and would drown in time, for, though she clung on to the edge with frantic hands, her efforts to escape had evidently exhausted her to such an extent that she could now do no more than look up to us, as we stood on the bank above, with wild, beseeching eyes. I was going to jump to her help, when Jason stayed me with his hand. “Hist, Renny!” he whispered. “I’ve never seen a body drown.” “Nor shall,” said I, hoping he jested. “Let me shove her hands off,” he said, in the same wondering tone. One moment, with a shock, I saw the horrible meaning in his face; the next, with a quick movement I had flung him down and jumped. He rose at once with a slight cut on his lips, but before he could recover himself I had the girl out by the hands and had stretched her limp and prostrate on the grass. Then I paused, embarrassed, and he stood above looking down upon us. “You’ll have to pay for that, Renny,” he said, “sooner or later”--and, of course, I knew I should. “Turn the creature on her face, you dolt!” he continued, “and let the water run out of her pipes.” I endeavored to comply, but the girl, always keeping her eyes shut, resisted feebly. I dropped upon my knees and smoothed away the sodden tresses from her face. Thus revealed it seemed an oddly pretty one; the skin half transparent, like rice paper; the forehead rounding from the nose like a kitten’s. But she never opened her eyes, so that I could not see what was their color, though the lashes were black. Presently a horror seized me that she was dead, and I shook her pretty roughly by the shoulder. “Oh,” she cried, with a whimper, “don’t!” I was so rejoiced at this evidence of life that I gave a whoop. Then I bent over her. “It’s all right, girl,” I said; “you’re safe; I saved you.” Her lips were moving again and I stopped to listen. “What did he want to drown me for?” she whispered. She was thinking of my brother, not of me. For a flash her eyes opened, violet, like lightning, and glanced up at him standing above; then they closed again. “Come,” I said, roughly; “if you can talk, you can get up.” The girl struggled into a sitting posture and then rose to her feet. She was tall, almost as tall as I was, and about my age, I should think. Her dress, so far as one could judge, it being sopped with water, was a poor patched affair, and rough country shoes were on her feet. “Take me somewhere, where I can dry,” she said, imperiously. “Don’t let him come--he needn’t follow.” “He’s my brother,” I said.