"Boys, I once read about a prisoner who was shut up in a tower in France for twenty years, and I began to feel like that fellow. I guess we all did, for when the light did begin to dawn again, and there were signs of spring, we were all so utterly hopeless that we didn't have spirit enough to get up and set to work. We knew that the ship was a wreck underneath, and we hadn't courage for the struggle in boats to the southward. But Toko never rested till he had got some of us on our feet and set us moving. Action breeds activity, I've been told; and it's a fact that the more we worked the more we wanted to work. Finally one day we heard a series of reports like the firing of great guns. "'De ice! De ice! Him break!' cried Toko, dancing about. 'See! Dere water! Water!' "'All hands to the boats!' shouted the Captain." [Illustration: WITH THE STRENGTH OF GIANTS WE FORCED OUR BOATS OVER THE ROUGH ICE.] "Men, I've seen fellows work desperately; but we were like crazed people. With the strength of giants we forced our boats over the rough ice till they reached open water. Then we set up a great cry of joy, and all of us embraced Toko. Next we set sail for the south. In three weeks we reached an Esquimau settlement, where men were found to guide us on our way. And then Toko fell in a swoon. "'He not eat enough,' said an old native, gravely, after examining him. "We found it to be true. The brave boy had half starved himself while providing for the needs of the rest of us. Fellows, we didn't leave that settlement till Toko was well enough to go with us. We took him back to his home, and I don't believe there was a man of us that didn't shed tears, when we parted from him, after securing passage on a homeward-bound whaler." "By gosh!" exclaimed Dan Ferns, "he was a plucky little cuss, but--" "Tumble out, lads!" came the hoarse voice of the patrol, as he put his head into the room. "Here's a schooner drivin' on with her foremast gone." And the yarn-spinners became life-savers once more. [Illustration] A NEW LIFE. (_In Three Instalments._) BY FLORENCE HALLOWELL HOYT. CHAPTER IV. When Aunt Patty and Ida went into the house together, Cynthia was not to be seen. She was upstairs in her own room, with the door locked, and when Aunt Patty knocked she answered in a smothered voice that she would be out in a few minutes. "I don't know what under the canopy can be the matter with Cynthia," said Aunt Patty, when she came down stairs again, after removing her old black straw bonnet and silk cape. "I never knew the child to shut herself up that way before." Ida said nothing; she was sewing by a window, and did not look up. There was a look of constraint and annoyance on her face.