uth was speaking, and regarded him with
some suspicion.

"You admit, I suppose," he rejoined sternly, "that if you had _not_ swum
off, the rocket apparatus would have been equally useless."

"By no means," returned Charlie, with that benignant smile that always
accompanied his opposition in argument. "I do not admit that, because,
if I had not done it, assuredly some one else would. In fact a friend
of mine was on the point of making the attempt when I pulled him back
and prevented him."

"And why did you prevent him?"

"Because he was not so well able to do it as I."

"Oh! I see. In other words, you have a pretty high opinion of your own
powers."

"Possibly I have," returned the youth, somewhat sharply. "I lay claim
to no exemption from the universal law of vanity which seems to affect
the entire human race--especially the cynical part of it. At the same
time, knowing from long experience that I am physically stronger, can
swim better, and have greater power of endurance, though not greater
courage, than my friend, it would be mere pretence were I to assume that
in such matters I was his inferior. You asked me why I prevented him: I
gave you the reason exactly and straightforwardly. I now repeat it."

"Don't be so ready to fire up, young man," said Crossley, with a
deprecating smile. "I had no intention of hurting your feelings."

"You have not hurt them, sir," returned Charlie, with almost provoking
urbanity of manner and sweetness of voice, "you have only misunderstood
me."

"Well, well, let it pass. Tell me, now, can I do anything for you?"

"Nothing, thank you."

"Eh?" exclaimed the old gentleman in surprise.

"Nothing, thank you," repeated his visitor. "I did not save you for the
purpose of being rewarded, and I refuse to accept reward for saving
you."

For a second or two Mr Crossley regarded his visitor in silence, with a
conflicting mixture of frown and smile--a sort of acidulated-drop
expression on his rugged face. Then he asked--

"What is the name of this friend whom you prevented from swimming off to
us?"

"Shank Leather."

"Is he a very great friend of yours?"

"Very. We have been playmates from childhood, and school-fellows till
now."

"What is he?--his profession, I mean?"

"Nothing at present. That is to say, he has, like myself, been trained
to no special profession, and the failure of the firm in the
counting-house of which we have both served for some months ha