owned? Some sudden thought of the pleasantness of life, of
dear friends across this same cruel, ravenous sea, of Uncle Richard
and his warning, came to him here. To be drowned in this dark, chill,
raging flood? Oh! no, no! Then he saw, out in the gloom and mistiness,
the white gleaming of a wave-crest, rising and sinking, but sweeping
steadily toward him, and knew that it would dash upon his narrow
foothold. Could he survive another?

Then from Noll's lips came a shrill cry, which rose above the thunder
and battering of the sea; and, whether from terror or whether from the
fact that the dear name was so warm and vivid in his heart at that
moment, the cry was not "Help!" but, "Papa, papa!"

The cry was answered!--at least, Noll fancied it was, and clung to the
jagged edges of rock with a new love of life in his heart, and, with
his eyes on the approaching wave, which began to loom up dark and
vast, cried out again with all his might.

Out of the darkness which hovered over his submerged path beyond, a
figure came struggling,--battling the water and making desperate
efforts to run,--crying,--

"Noll, Noll! where are you?"

"Here,--Uncle Richard,--quick!" answered the boy, clinging desperately
to his only refuge,--the slippery, icy rocks.

The wave came thunderingly in, burst, and hid uncle and nephew from
each other. Trafford uttered a groan of despair, and stood, for an
instant, like one palsied. Back swept the flood, leaving the sand bare
for a minute, and with a shout, the master of the stone house rushed
forward, seized the figure which had fallen there, and sprang away
toward the sand and safety. He gained it, and tremblingly laid his
burden down. Had he only saved a body from which the life had flown?

"Oh, Noll!" he cried, brokenly,--"Noll, Noll!"

Only the sea and the wailing of the wind answered him. Hurriedly
gathering the boy in his arms, he started for the house, running and
stumbling through the sand and over the rocks, fearful lest he should
reach its warmth and shelter too late. But before he had gained half
the distance between him and the redly-gleaming window, where he knew
Hagar was sitting before her fire, Noll stirred in his arms. Trafford
stopped, fearing that his excited imagination had deceived him.

"Noll," he cried, "speak to me,--speak!"

"Yes--only--I'm--I'm so cold," chattered Noll, faintly; "and--Uncle
Richard--you--you've saved me!"

Trafford could not spea