Over and over again the action was repeated, the muscles and body moving in rhythmic harmony like some perfect mechanism running in a bath of oil.
"Ye gods of Greece!" breathed the man.

"What is this thing I see?
Flesh or spirit?
Man or god ?" Again he swore at himself for neglecting to bring his sketch book and pencil.
"Hello, father! Where are you ?" A girl's voice rang out, high, clear, and near at hand.
"Good Lord!" said the man to himself, glancing up at the poised figure.
"I must stop her." One startled glance the youth flung down upon him, another in the direction of the voice, then, like a white, gleaming arrow he shot down, and disappeared in the dark pool below.
With his eyes upon the water the man awaited his reappearing.

A half minute, a full minute he waited, but in vain.

Swiftly he ran toward the edge of the pool.

There was no sign anywhere of the youth.
Ghastly pale and panting, the man ran, as far round the base of the rock as the water would allow him, seeking everywhere signs of the swimmer.
"Hello, father! Oh, there you are!" Breaking through the bushes, a girl ran to him.
"What is it, pater?
You are ill.