“They’re gone to fetch the ropes,” a man said; “you had better wait till they come back.” “No, no,” the lad said, “it will be too late—he’s pretty nigh done already;” and he went deeper into the water. “That’s right, my lad,” Frank called out; “lose no time, or you will get numbed by the cold; and don’t be afraid: if you want help, sing out, and I will come in for you.” Frank unlaced his boots ready to kick them off in a moment, unbuttoned his waistcoat, handed his watch to Prescott, and stood with the rest watching the boy’s progress. He was swimming now. It was slow work; for as he advanced he had to break the ice, sometimes by strokes of his arm, sometimes by trying to get on it and breaking it with his weight. At last he reached the thin ice. It gave way readily enough before him; he gained the little open piece of water which the dog had made, and then turned to come back. It had not been far, not more than twenty yards, but it had taken a long time, and he was evidently exhausted. “I must go in for him, or he will never get back,” Frank said, pulling off his coat and waistcoat; but just as he was about to plunge in, there was a shout from the bystanders, and a man came running up with a long rope which he had fetched from the Humane Society’s house. Frank took it from him and threw it to the boy, who caught the end, and was drawn rapidly to the shore amidst the shouts of the crowd, the little dog swimming behind with sharp barks of pleasure. The boy was terribly exhausted, and it was proposed to carry him to the Society’s house; but while the matter was being debated, he recovered himself a little, and said— Please would they leave him alone, he was only out of breath, and would rather run home, for he was late already, and mother would be wondering what had become of him. Seeing that he really was coming round and was anxious to be off, it was agreed to let him have his way. Two men accordingly chafed his arms and hands. When the circulation was restored, his jacket was put on him, and his hands encased in a pair of warm woollen gloves, sizes too large for him, the gift of one of the lookers-on. In the meantime another of the bystanders took off his hat, and went round among the crowd. He speedily collected a goodly number of halfpence, sixpences, and shillings, and a few half-crowns; Frank dropping in a sovereign for himself and Prescott. By the time that the boy had finished his toilet, such as it was, and had pronounced himself “all right,” the man came up with the amount collected. The boy opened his eyes in astonishment. “Is all this for me?” “Yes, my boy, and you deserve it well.” “But I did not do it for money,” he said; “I only did it because I could not bear to hear the dog yelp so.”