Whoever the little fellow was that was acting the role, he certainly was a genius in his way.  His presence of mind was almost marvelous.

When the waves from the threshing-paddle so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, he had just time to draw a deep inspiration before he was environed by death.  The most skillful swimmer in the world cannot sustain himself in sea-foam, or in the white caps of the breakers.  The only safe course when thus caught is to hold your breath and wait for “solid water,” where you can paddle your own canoe.

Almost any one thus entrapped would have let go the rope and been drowned, but the boy held on with the grip of death, and as soon as he could catch a mouthful of fresh air, shouted,—­

“Pull up; I’m all right.”

A dozen hands were outstretched to help, and the next minute the brave lad, still holding the senseless girl with one arm, was drawn up on deck, and received into the crowd, who almost pulled him apart in their frenzied congratulations.

It was found that the little girl was alive, and carrying her into the cabin where her mother had just recovered from her swoon, a medical gentleman announced that there was nothing to fear.

The wheels of the ferry-boat were again in motion, and the slip was reached, while a hundred men were demanding the name of the young hero, praising him, offering to make up a purse, hurrahing, and going wild over what was unquestionably a most praiseworthy deed.

In the midst of the excitement and rattling of chains, the crowd swarmed off the boat, and the lads were lost sight of.

Chapter IX.

Tom Gordon was not only brave, but he was modest; and he hurried away from the swarming crowd as soon as he was free of the ferry-boat, for he found it anything but pleasant to be looked upon and treated as a lion.  Turning off into one of the intersecting streets, the two lads walked along in silence, when Tom said,—­

“Do you know, Jim, I’m half-frozen?”

The rattling teeth emphasized the question.

“I should think you would be.  Here’s a place of some kind; let’s go in and have something to eat, and you can warm yourself.”

Jim led the way; and as he pushed open the green-baize doors, which worked on springs, he saw they had entered one of those nondescript shops, so numerous in certain parts of New York, where a person can obtain any kind of alcoholic drink, a cigar, a lunch, a “square meal,” or a night’s lodging, or all.

Jim recognized the resort, and he would have withdrawn but through sympathy for his shivering companion.  The latter could scarcely stand from cold, his clothing was soaked, and, in the keen air, had congealed so that it rattled like tarpauling as he walked.

Just back from the door was a large stove, whose bulging, white-washed cylinder, gleamed red with heat.