I struck home.

And I heard the chorus of a love-song from the opposite bank.
Leaving him where he lay, a huddled mass, I turned to "Jacob's Ladder." My time was short.

This fellow's turn of watching might be over directly, and relief would come.

Leaning over the pipe, I examined it, from the end near the water to the topmost extremity where it passed, or seemed to pass, through the masonry of the wall.

There was no break in it, no chink.