The mate’s remarks about heroes were mercifully cut short. He was three stone lighter than Mr. Heard, and standing on shelving ground. The latter’s victory was so sudden that he over-balanced, and only a commotion at the surface of the water showed where they had disappeared. Mr. Heard was first up and out, but almost immediately the figure of the mate, who had gone under with his mouth open, emerged from the water and crawled ashore. “You—wait—till I—get my breath back,” he gasped. “There’s no ill-feeling, I ’ope?” said Mr. Heard, anxiously. “I’ll tell everybody of your bravery. Don’t spoil everything for the sake of a little temper.” Mr. Dix stood up and clinched his fists, but at the spectacle of the dripping, forlorn figure before him his wrath vanished and he broke into a hearty laugh. “Come on, mate,” he said, clapping him on the back, “now let’s go and find Emma. If she don’t fall in love with you now she never will. My eye! you are a picture!” He began to walk towards the town, and Mr. Heard, with his legs wide apart and his arms held stiffly from his body, waddled along beside him. Two little streamlets followed. They walked along the quay in silence, and had nearly reached the end of it, when the figure of a man turned the corner of the houses and advanced at a shambling trot towards them. “Old Smith!” said Mr. Heard, in a hasty whisper. “Now, be careful. Hold me tight.” The new-comer thankfully dropped into a walk as he saw them, and came to a standstill with a cry of astonishment as the light of a neighboring lamp revealed their miserable condition. “Wot, Arthur!” he exclaimed. “Halloa,” said Mr. Heard, drearily. “The idea o’ your being so sinful,” said Mr. Smith, severely. “Emma told me wot you said, but I never thought as you’d got the pluck to go and do it. I’m surprised at you.” “I ain’t done it,” said Mr. Heard, in a sullen voice; “nobody can drownd themselves in comfort with a lot of interfering people about.” Mr. Smith turned and gazed at the mate, and a broad beam of admiration shone in his face as he grasped that gentleman’s hand. “Come into the ’ouse both of you and get some dry clothes,” he said, warmly. He thrust his strong, thick-set figure between them, and with a hand on each coat-collar propelled them in the direction of home. The mate muttered something about going back to his ship, but Mr. Smith refused to listen, and stopping at the door of a neat cottage, turned the handle and thrust his dripping charges over the threshold of a comfortable sitting-room. A pleasant-faced woman of middle age and a pretty girl of twenty rose at their entrance, and a faint scream fell pleasantly upon the ears of Mr. Heard. “Here he is,” bawled Mr. Smith; “just saved at the last moment.” “What, two of them?” exclaimed Miss Smith, with a faint note of gratification in her voice. Her gaze fell on the mate, and she smiled approvingly. “No; this one jumped in and saved ’im,” said her father.