t disappeared, but Tom
Slade had seen it and, jumping to the float, he reached down.

"I've got him--keep back--you'll sink the float----"

"Don't let go."

It was not in the nature of Tom Slade to let go.

Presently a ghastly face with red stained hair streaming over it,
appeared.

"Let me take him," said Tom.

But the man with bleeding, mangled shoulder would not give up what he
held, as in a grip of iron, with his other arm.

And so Tom Slade dragged the wounded creature up onto the float and
there he lay in a pool of blood, still clinging to his burden.

The little boy was safe. He opened his eyes and looked about. His face
was smeared with mud, one of his shoes was gone, his foot seemed to be
twisted. It was all too plain that he had been _within_ the suction
pipe, within the devouring jaws of that monster serpent, when his
frantic rescuer had dragged him back. But he was safe.

His rescuer was utterly crazed. Yet he seemed to know Tom.

"Safe--alive----" he muttered.

"Yes, he's safe; lie still. Get the doctor, some of you fellows--quick."

"Send, send--them away--all. You know--do you--I'm square--yes?"

"Surely," said Tom soothingly. "Lie still."

"He's alive?"

"Yes."

"Listen, come close. I'll tell _you_--now. I _murdered_ a kid
once--now--now I've--I've saved one----"

"Shh. It's the same one, Harlowe."

"You--you know?"

"Yes, I know. We'll talk about it after. Hold your head
still--quiet--that's right. Don't think about it now. Shh--I think your
arm is broken; don't move it."

"I--I--killed----"

"No, you never killed any one. Lie still--please. I know all about it.
We can't talk about it now. _But you never killed any one_, remember
that."

"You know I'm Harlowe?"

"Yes. Don't talk. That was little Willie Corbett you saved. Now don't
ask me any more now; _please_. You don't think I'm a liar, do you? Well,
I'm telling you you never killed _anybody_. See? You're not a murderer,
you're a hero. I know all about it.... Lie still, that's right.... Don't
move your arm...."

CHAPTER XXXVI

Harlowe's Story

Aaron Harlowe was lying on his cot in the little rustic hospital at
Temple Camp. It was worth being sick to lie in that hospital. It was
just a log cabin. The birds sang outside of it, you could hear the
breeze blowing in the trees, you could hear the ripple of paddles on the
lake.

Tom Slade sat upon the side of the cot.

"You see when I found the map, I knew you