"Is it true?" he gasped. "Is Charles Channing in the water!--sent there
through the tricks of the college boys--of Tod?"
"There is little doubt of its truth, Roland," was the answer of Hamish.
Roland said no more. Off went his coat, off went his waistcoat, off
went other garments, leaving him nothing but his drawers and his shirt;
and in he leaped impetuously, before any one could stop him, and dived
below, searching after Charles, paying no heed to the shouts that the
drags would get hold of him.
But neither drags nor Roland could find Charles. The drags were
continued, but without result. Very few had expected that there would
be any result, the probability being that the current had carried the
body down the stream. Hamish had been home to soothe the grief of his
sisters--or rather to attempt to soothe it-and then he came back again.
Roland, his ardour cooled, had likewise been home to exchange his wet
things for dry ones. This done, he was flying out again, when he came
upon the Reverend William Yorke, who was hastening down to the scene,
in some agitation.
"Is the boy found, Roland, do you know? How did it happen? Did he fall
in?"
"Considering the light in which you regard the family, William Yorke, I
wonder you should waste your breath to ask about it," was Roland's
touchy answer, delivered with as much scorn as he could call up.
Mr. Yorke said no more, but quickened his pace towards the river.
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