as still several steps behind,
although he and Keith had never exchanged a word before. Keith turned
in surprise.

"Three boys were drowned skating during the lunch hours," continued
Bergman breathlessly. "Two were in my class--Hill and Samson, you know.
The third, Dahlin, was in your own class."

"Is Dahlin dead?" asked Keith blankly. The thing seemed impossible to
him. He had been talking to Dahlin that very morning--a tall boy, slow,
self-possessed, older than most of the other pupils, and advanced for
his age in everything but studies.

"He is," said Bergman with emphasis. "And so are the other two. They are
dragging for the bodies now."

So that was what I saw those people doing out there, Keith thought.

"Little Moses was with them," Bergman ran on. "The Jew, you know. We've
always thought him a coward. And he nearly went down, too, trying to
save them."

By that time they were separating at the door to Bergman's classroom. On
entering his own class, Keith found it in a state of unexampled though
subdued excitement. The boys were gathered in groups which constantly
shifted membership. Every one spoke in a whisper. Reports and rumours of
the most fantastic kind passed from group to group, giving rise to
fierce discussions. Six boys had been drowned instead of three, some one
asserted. In another minute they heard that no one had been lost. Most
credence was given to a circumstantial report of the miraculous recovery
of Dahlin after he had been fully fifteen minutes under water. His big
sealskin cap, they said, had become stuck over his face as he went
under, so that the water could not choke him.

Keith was among the most excited for a while, running eagerly from group
to group and telling what he had heard from Bergman, who evidently had
the very latest news. Soon, however, his mood changed, and he retired
quickly to his own seat. There he sat by himself, his elbows on his
knees and his face resting in his hands. A stupor had descended on his
mind. The whole thing seemed so incredible. He could not grasp it. Those
boys, who had been right among them only a few hours ago, would never
appear again. There would be a funeral, and then they would never be
heard of again. Tears broke into his eyes. He choked with a vague sense
of pity. Samson, he knew, was the only son of a poor widow. Hill's
mother was very sick, some one had said. And Dahlin....

Keith instinctively raised his head to look at the place which