"Heaven help me! what shall I do ?" He had gripped his son tightly in his agony, and they stood together for a few moments, nearly swept off their feet by the swirling current, when a bright idea flashed across the squire's mind.
"Quick, Dick! don't speak.

Climb on my back." "But, father--" "Do as I bid you," roared the squire, stooping a little, and bending down he made of one hand a stirrup for his son's foot, who, the next moment, was well up on his back.
"That's better, boy," panted the squire.

"You are safe, and your weight steadies me.

I can get on now; it can't be far." As he spoke a light suddenly flashed up a couple of hundred yards ahead, and gleamed strangely over the water like a blood-red stain.
Then it died out, but flashed up again and increased till there was a ruddy path of light before them, and behind the glow stood up the trees, the long, low Priory and the out-buildings, while figures could be seen moving here and there.
"I know," cried Dick.

"I see, father.