Throwing a look behind, he saw his pursuer totter, clutch at the slipping timber, and, still clutching at it, turn a somersault and disappear.
Tristram ran on.

Then a series of shouts rang in his ear, and he looked behind again.

The other three men had come up, and were running aimlessly to and fro upon the farther bank.

From the pit at their feet rose a gurgling and heartrending appeal for help.

It was plain the poor fellow was drowning, and equally plain that his comrades could not swim.