This time, as before, when he found his attendant not to be shaken off, Bradley suddenly turned back. This time, as before, Riderhood turned back along with him. But, not this time, as before, did they go into the Lock House, for Bradley came to a stand on the snow-covered turf by the Lock, looking up the river and down the river. Navigation was impeded by the frost, and the scene was a mere white and yellow desert.

“Come, come, Master,” urged Riderhood, at his side. “This is a dry game. And where’s the good of it? You can’t get rid of me, except by coming to a settlement. I am a going along with you wherever you go.”

Without a word of reply, Bradley passed quickly from him over the wooden bridge on the lock gates. “Why, there’s even less sense in this move than t’other,” said Riderhood, following. “The Weir’s there, and you’ll have to come back, you know.”

Without taking the least notice, Bradley leaned his body against a post, in a resting attitude, and there rested with his eyes cast down. “Being brought here,” said Riderhood, gruffly, “I’ll turn it to some use by changing my gates.” With a rattle and a rush of water, he then swung-to the lock gates that were standing open, before opening the others. So, both sets of gates were, for the moment, closed.

“You’d better by far be reasonable, Bradley Headstone, Master,” said Riderhood, passing him, “or I’ll drain you all the dryer for it, when we do settle. — Ah! Would you!”

Bradley had caught him round the body. He seemed to be girdled with an iron ring. They were on the brink of the Lock, about mid-way between the two sets of gates.

“Let go!” said Riderhood, “or I’ll get my knife out and slash you wherever I can cut you. Let go!”

Bradley was drawing to the Lock-edge. Riderhood was drawing away from it. It was a strong grapple, and a fierce struggle, arm and leg. Bradley got him round, with his back to the Lock, and still worked him backward.

“Let go!” said Riderhood. “Stop! What are you trying at? You can’t drown Me. Ain’t I told you that the man as has come through drowning can never be drowned? I can’t be drowned.”

“I can be!” returned Bradley, in a desperate, clenched voice. “I am resolved to be. I’ll hold you living, and I’ll hold you dead. Come down!”

Riderhood went over into the smooth pit, backward, and Bradley Headstone upon him. When the two were found, lying under the ooze and scum behind one of the rotting gates, Riderhood’s hold had relaxed, probably in falling, and his eyes were staring upward. But, he was girdled still with Bradley’s iron ring, and the rivets of the iron ring held tight.