t snap.

"Thank heaven!" cried Matthew, "I have you!" And reaching up, he got a
grip of George's foot and dragged down the swinging pair.

"Grab the branch with your legs, Fairburn! and I'll cut Mary clear."

No sooner said than done. By the aid of a good clasp-knife Matthew
severed the cords and secured his little sister, her weight, however,
as it came upon him, almost knocking him from his perch. But he held
desperately, and in another moment had Mary on the branch beside him.
Then George, throwing his legs apart, suddenly loosed his hold of the
branches and dropped also astride of the bough, which he grasped tight
with both hands. He swung round and hung from the branch head
downwards. But the next minute he had righted himself, and was ready
to help with Mary.

The rescue was complete. To guide the child along the branch, towards
the middle of the tree, and then to lower her from limb to limb of the
old yew was mere play to the two boys. The three dropped the last four
or five feet to earth just as a man rushed forward with a great cry,
to clasp in his arms the fainting girl.

"God is merciful!" he ejaculated. It was Squire Blackett, who had
arrived just in time to see his beloved child saved from an awful
fate.

For a few moments father and children clung to each other. When at
length they looked round to express their gratitude to the plucky
rescuer, he was nowhere to be seen. Seeing a great crowd of the
Blackett pitmen arrive with a run, George had felt that he could be of
no more use, and slipping into the wood had made for home. He wanted
no thanks, and moreover the brig was to sail at four in the morning,
at which time the tide would serve.

"He's gone--George has gone!" cried Matthew.

"We can never repay him," murmured Mr. Blackett. "We must go on to see
him at the earliest moment in the morning."

When Mr. Blackett, with Matthew and the rescued Mary, drove early next
day to the Fairburns' house, it was only to learn that George had
sailed for London some hours before. There was no help for it, and all
they could do was to overwhelm the father and mother with words of
gratitude and praise. They informed the Fairburns that by the
exertions of the men the library and its contents had been saved; the
rest of the mansion was left a wreck. Mrs. Maynard had been drawn from
the mass of burning rubbish at the foot of the staircase, and was now
lying between life and death.

George had had a bad quarter