ipped into the water and
began to sink like a stone. Quick as a flash Adolph dropped on his knees
on a log that was partly under water, grabbed the girl by her hair and
pulled her out. On their return home, Adolph was licked until he could
not stand on his feet for leading the smaller children into mischief.
Then he got a crown for the pluck shown in saving his sister's life.

This even balancing of justice made a deep impression on Keith. He
thought and thought of it, and his reason, which already was very
active, appreciated the logic of such a dispensation, but his heart
rebelled strangely and turned for a while to his own father as a paragon
of mildness, while the black-bearded Uncle Laube became an object of
repulsion bordering on hatred. Fortunately the disciplinarian was away
most of the day and Keith was running wild around the island. This was
not possible without some protests from his mother, who regarded all
water outside of a tub with deep distrust. He nevertheless maintained an
unusual degree of independence until one day, while playing in one of
the rowboats lying outside a small pier near their house, he, too, fell
in and was pulled out by Adolph.

The children were alone at the time. Keith had no consciousness of
having been in danger, but he was in a funk because of his wet clothing.
Instead of going home at once, he ran to an open spot at the other end
of the island and played in the sun to get dry. After a while his mother
appeared, disturbed by his long absence. There was nothing to do but to
respond to her call, although he did so most reluctantly, his clothing
still being damp. His slow movements aroused her suspicion, and in
another moment the awful truth was out.

"You might have drowned," his mother cried, too frightened to scold. "Or
you might have caught cold and died of that. Perhaps ... you had better
come home at once."

"No," protested Keith. "Adolph was there, and it hasn't been cold at
all."

"But think, Keith," his mother remonstrated, her eyes dim with tears,
"you wouldn't care to die and leave me?"

"I don't want to leave you," the boy said, "and I was not going to."

She took his head between her two hands and looked long into his eyes
before she asked at last:

"Are you not scared of death?"

"I don't know," he stammered, wincing slightly under her stare. He could
not grasp what she was driving at. Death carried no clear meaning to
him. It had never touched his real inne