one to brag in that direction. Nevertheless, Ralph
heard of it later on.

In the basket were several sandwiches of cold corned beef and half-a-dozen
peaches. Ralph offered one of the peaches to the young man, which he took,
and both sat down to eat.

"You will find a tavern up the main road, a two minutes' walk from here,"
began the youth, thinking that Horace Kelsey might wish for something more
substantial in the way of food.

"Thank you, but your mother supplied me with a very good lunch while I was
waiting, Ralph," returned the young man. "Don't mind me, but go ahead and
enjoy your lunch."

Ralph at once set to, for he was hungry. His companion looked up the lake
for a moment in silence, and then went on:

"I came down here to reward you, Ralph," he said, hesitatingly.

"Reward me? What for, Mr. Kelsey?"

"For saving my life."

"I don't think I did as much as that. Anybody could have pulled you from
the water."

"They might not have been as quick as you were. I feel I owe you something
for your prompt aid."

"I don't want anything, sir. I would have done as much for any one."

"I do not doubt it, and it is to your credit to say so. But I feel I ought
to do something for you. Will you accept this--not as payment for what was
done, for I could not pay for that in this way--but as a gift from a
friend?"

And Horace Kelsey drew from his vest pocket a new and crisp twenty-dollar
bill.

"I don't see as I ought to take it," hesitated Ralph.

"But you will. Here, don't let it blow overboard," and the young man from
New York thrust it into Ralph's hand, directly between a sandwich he was
holding.

"Indeed I won't let it blow away. I thank you ver--hallo! you have made a
big mistake."

"How?"

"This is a twenty-dollar bill."

"I see no mistake about that," and Horace Kelsey smiled quietly.

"You don't mean to say you meant to give me twenty dollars?"

"I did. It is little enough for such a service."

"It's too much. I thought it was a one-dollar bill, sir."

"I would not be mean enough to offer you only a dollar, Ralph. A man isn't
pulled from a watery grave, as the poets call it, every day."

"I don't think I ought to take all this money," returned the young bridge
tender slowly.

"I do, so put it into your pocket and say no more about it."

Ralph continued to argue the point, but was finally persuaded to place the
bill in his private purse.

"Your mother has been telling me a little about