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on the oars, and was aware of the little feet set sturdily against the braces.

Bob Dunbar said,—

"You did a mighty fine thing, Halket, to get him at all!"

"Oh, you did!" Lydia cried, "I did n't mean—" She choked for a moment, and turned her head away, still pulling on the oars. When she looked again at Floyd, there were tears on her cheeks, and her face, though utterly sad, seemed softened in its grief. "I did it—I pushed him down," she said. "That was why I spoke so—one reason why—"

She could not finish; she looked away again; and in another moment the boat ran on the sand. Lydia stepped ashore and then stood undecided.

"Come home, Lydia," said her cousin.

"Yes," she answered, "but—please find out first, Bob."

Here and there along the beach, little detached groups of women and girls stood, waiting, withdrawn some distance from a larger gathering of men. Toward this Bob Dunbar and Floyd Halket started running; one of the men was turning away, and seeing them shook his head.

"No hope?" asked Bob. And again the man, whose face was very grave, shook his head. Bob turned back, and Floyd saw him lead Lydia away.

He himself drew near the intent gathering. He noticed that several of the men were in their shirt-sleeves, and vaguely he wondered why. Then he found himself in the circle, gazing at Stewart, who lay stripped to the waist, stretched on his back; a man stood over him, chafing him with a rough towel; a young doctor, with his coat off, knelt at the boy's head and was moving his arms up and down, up and down, making his chest heave almost as if he were alive. A roll of coats was under the boy's shoulders, so that his chest should be elevated and his