The boat was readily loaned, and the two were soon on the river.  Mr. Melville first took the oars, but he was quickly fatigued, and resigned them to Herbert, who was strong and muscular for his age.  As his companion observed his strong and steady strokes, he said: 

“Herbert, I am disposed to envy you your strength and endurance.  I get tired very easily.”

“Were you not strong when a boy?” asked Herbert.

“I never had much endurance.  My mother had a feeble constitution and was consumptive, and I inherit something of her weakness.”

“It is fortunate that you have money, Mr. Melville, so that you are not obliged to work.”

“True; but I would give half my fortune to be strong and well.”

Herbert noticed the hectic flush upon Mr. Melville’s cheeks, and his white, transparent hands, and his sympathy was aroused.

“I see,” he said, thoughtfully, “that I am more fortunate than I thought in my health and strength.”

“They are blessings not to be overestimated, Herbert.  However, my lot is, on the whole, a happy one, even though my life will probably be brief, and I have still many sources of satisfaction and enjoyment.”

The river led away from the village, flowing between wooded banks, with here and there a cottage set in the midst of the fields.  Lying back in the stern, Melville enjoyed their tranquil passage, when their attention was suddenly attracted by a boy who stood on the bank, frantically waving his hat.  Melville was the first to see him.

“What can that boy want?” he asked.

Herbert immediately looked around, and exclaimed in surprise: 

“It’s Tom Tripp!”

“Row to shore, and see what he wants,” said Melville, quickly.

They were already near, and in a brief space of time they touched the bank.

“What’s the matter, Tom?”

“There’s a tramp in the house, stealing all he can lay hands on,” answered Tom, in excitement.

“What house?”

“Farmer Cole’s.”

Mr. Cole was the farmer for whom Tom Tripp was working.

Tom explained that the farmer was gone to the village, leaving his wife alone.  A tramp had come to the door and asked for a meal.  While Mrs. Cole was getting something for him, the visitor looked about him and, finding that there was no man about, boldly demanded money, after unceremoniously possessing himself of the silver spoons.

“Is he armed?” asked Melville.

“I don’t know; I don’t think so.”

“Does he know that you have gone for help?”

“No; he did not see me.  I came from the fields, and saw him through the window.  Mrs. Cole thinks I am in the field and there is no help near.”

Physical courage and physical strength do not always go together, and a weak man often excels a strong man in bravery.  George Melville was thoroughly roused.  For injustice or brutality he had a hearty contempt, and he was not one to stand by and see a ruffian triumph.