In an instant he had the child by the arms and had swung her up onto his back sailor-like and was making for the shore. The last that Jim saw of the sailor he was pulling with great strokes for land with the child clinging to his back. “Let him go,” muttered the convict, “and may the black devil go with him, but I’m darned glad that the kid didn’t die, although I did my prettiest.” CHAPTER VII. When Tom realized that he had the child safely in his arms and was climbing up the rocks upon the East River his heart beat with delight. He felt that his freedom was given him that he might save the little maiden from a death which she did not merit. He was repeating over to himself the name of the widow, Biddy, whom we have met before. The woman had given the card to Jim, not knowing that it would fall into the hands of another convict. She was sitting, just getting ready for bed, and muttering to herself: “It does seem strange that the poor mother has to die in the prison. I suppose, as she ain’t got no friends, there ain’t no use sending her into the world. But that’s a pretty baby. “She ought to be a queen,” Biddy added as she turned out the light and jumped into bed. This woman kept a small boathouse, with some half-dozen boats to rent, and took in small washings from the sailors upon the tugs in the river, and from this she made a good living and had managed to put by a little. She had but one friend, and that was the venerable Mrs. Higgins, and it was through the woman on the Island that these two women had met. This night Biddy had come late from the prison, leaving poor Annie Standish nearer the grave than the good woman thought it possible to be. “I will go in the morning again,” said she, “and I hope the bairn will be in better spirits.” Then she tumbled over in the bed. Suddenly she raised her head. She heard a light tapping upon the window pane, and it seemed almost like the ticking of a clock. Biddy listened again. It certainly was a signal of distress. She went cautiously to the window and looked out. There was the shadow of a very tall man, and he was tapping upon her window. “What do you want?” cried she loudly, knowing that no one could hear but the man. “I want help for a poor wet child,” was the answer, and Biddy Roan’s door was thrown open, despite the fact that she stood in her night gown. Tom Cooper staggered into the room under the weight of the heavily-breathing child. “Where did you get it?” asked Biddy suspiciously, looking at the prison stripes. “I will tell you the truth,” and Tom began at the beginning and told the story from the time he had had a part in it. “You see, if I had not saved her, the child would have been drowned.” “And Jim Farren was the boy who started to do this trick. Let me see him again, and I’ll pull his claws for him.” “You won’t be bothered with him, I have a notion,” said Tom, “for he wouldn’t dare to stay about here.” Biddy was undressing the wet child.