We often call it the river-boar." "But it is only a big wave." "Big enough to swamp a boat, though." And while I spoke I saw, to my horror, that there actually was a boat, with two men in it, trying to get out of the way of the eger.
"They never can! they'll assuredly be drowned! O John!" But he had already slipped from my side and swung himself by furze-bushes and grass down the steep slope to the water's edge.
It was a breathless moment.

The eger travelled slowly in its passage, changing the smooth, sparkling river to a whirl of conflicting currents, in which no boat could live--least of all that light pleasure-boat, with its toppling sail.

In it was a youth I knew by sight, Mr.Brithwood of the Mythe House, and another gentleman.
They both pulled hard--they got out of the mid-stream, but not close enough to land; and already there was but two oars' length between them and the "boar." "Swim for it!" I heard one cry to the other: but swimming would not have saved them.
"Hold there!" shouted John at the top of his voice; "throw that rope out and I will pull you in!" It was a hard tug: I shuddered to see him wade knee-deep in the stream--but he succeeded.

Both gentlemen leaped safe on shore.

The younger tried desperately to save his boat, but it was too late.
Already the "water-boar" had clutched it--the rope broke like a gossamer-thread--the trim, white sail was dragged down--rose up once, broken and torn, like a butterfly caught in a mill-stream--then disappeared.
"So it's all over with her, poor thing!" "Who cares ?--We might have lost our lives," sharply said the other, an older and sickly-looking gentleman, dressed in mourning, to whom life did not seem a particularly pleasant thing, though he appeared to value it so highly.
They both scrambled up the Mythe, without noticing John Halifax: then the elder turned.
"But who pulled us ashore?
Was it you, my young friend ?" John Halifax, emptying his soaked boots, answered, "I suppose so." "Indeed, we owe you much." "Not more than a crown will pay," said young Brithwood, gruffly; "I know him, Cousin March.