“Carefully! steadily!” cried the boys all together.

They slackened speed a little, but, happily, the pond was but a short distance from the school.  It was a circular sheet of water, perhaps a mile in width.

“Boys, he is nearly on the other side,” said Mr. Gray, as the crowd reached the shore.

In an instant the boat was afloat.  Mr. Gray, the stranger, and the six stoutest boys in the school, stepped into it.  The boys lifted their oars.  “Let fall! give way!” cried Mr. Gray, and the boat moved off, glimmering away into the darkness.

The younger boys remained hushed and awe-stricken upon the shore.  The stars were just coming out, the wind had fallen, and the smooth, black pond lay silent at their feet.  They could see the vague, dark outline of the opposite shore, but none of the pretty villas that stood in graceful groves upon the banks—­none of the little lawns that sloped, with a feeling of human sympathy, to the water.  The treachery of that glassy surface was all they thought of.  They shuddered to remember that they had so often bathed in the pond, and recoiled as if they had been friends of a murderer.  None of them spoke.  They clustered closely together, listening intently.  Nothing was audible but the hum of the evening insects and the regular muffled beat of the oars over the water.  The boys strained their ears and held their breath as the sound suddenly stopped.  But they listened in vain.  The lazy tree-toads sang, the monotonous hum of the night went on.

Gabriel Bennet held the hand of Little Malacca—­a dark-eyed boy, who was supposed in the school to have had no father or mother, and who had instinctively attached himself to Gabriel from the moment they met.

“Isn’t it dreadful?” whispered the latter.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, “it’s dreadful to be young when a man’s drowning, for you can’t do any thing.  Hist!”

There was not a movement, as they heard a dull, distant sound.

“I guess that’s Jim Greenidge,” whispered Little Malacca, under his breath; “he’s the best diver.”

Nobody answered.  The slow minutes passed.  Some of the boys peered timidly into the dark, and clung closer to their neighbors.

“There they come!” said Gabriel suddenly, in a low voice, and in a few moments the beat of the oars was heard again.  Still nobody spoke.  Most of the boys were afraid that when the boat appeared they should see a dead body, and they dreaded it.  Some felt homesick, and began to cry.  The throb of oars came nearer and nearer.  The boat glimmered out of the darkness, and almost at the same moment slid up the shore.  The solemn undertone in which the rowers spoke told all.  Death was in the boat.

Gabriel Bennet could see the rowers step quickly out, and with great care run the boat upon the truck.  He said, “Come, boys!” and they all moved together and grasped the rope.

“Forward!” said Mr. Gray.