her, and Paul dived
after her, and I worked the boat, and we hauled her in, and took her on
board the Flyaway--didn't we, Paul?" and John sputtered as though his
own mouth had been full of salt water.

"We did," replied Paul.

"You will catch your death a-cold, Paul. Do come home now."

"I must take the boat round."

One of the bystanders, all of whom had listened with eager interest to
the particulars of the accident, volunteered to perform this service for
him; and Paul, shivering with cold, ran home, followed by his mother
and John.

"Where is Paul Duncan?" demanded Captain Littleton, after the doctor had
ordered his daughter to be carried ashore.

"Gone, half an hour ago, sir," replied Captain Gordon.

"God bless him!" fervently ejaculated the grateful father; and he
proceeded to give directions for the removal of Carrie.

CHAPTER IX.

PAUL BECOMES SKIPPER OF THE FAWN.

The heroic act of Paul, in saving the life of Carrie Littleton, was the
principal topic of conversation in Bayville for the next week. Of course
it was the unanimous vote of the people that Paul was a hero, and there
was some talk of giving him a complimentary dinner, and making speeches
at him; but the good sense of the strong-minded men and women of the
place prevailed, and he was not treated with the honors that turn the
head of a third-rate politician. But everybody thought something ought
to be done, and after a full week had passed by, everybody wondered that
Captain Littleton did not do something; that he did not make Paul a
present of a gold medal, or give him a check for a hundred dollars. The
gossips could not find out that he had done anything more than thank
Paul, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, for the noble service he had
rendered him. The captain had the reputation of being a very liberal
man, but the glory of his good name seemed to be rapidly passing away.

Paul attended to his business as usual, and seemed to give but little
heed to the compliments that were showered upon him. When any one spoke
to him about his gallant deed, he tried to turn it off, declared he had
only done his duty, as sentimental heroes generally do, and he did not
think he had done any very great thing, after all. But notwithstanding
all this seeming indifference, Paul was proud of the act that had made
him famous. He was conscious that he had done a noble deed; and his own
heart assured him he deserved the praise which was so liberall