ter had called the attention of some of the men, and two or
three of them ran into the water, waist deep, to help him out with his
little burden.

"Well done, Master Walsham! The child would have been drowned if you
had not seed it. None of us noticed her fall over. She was playing on
the beach last time I seed her."

"Is she dead?" James asked, breathless from his exertions.

"Not she," the fisherman said. "She could not have been under water a
minute. Take her into my cottage, it's one of the nighest. My wife will
put her between the blankets, and will soon bring her round."

The fisherman's wife met them at the door, and, taking the child from
the lad, carried it in, and soon had her wrapped up in blankets. But
before this was done she had opened her eyes, for she had scarcely lost
consciousness when James had seized her.

The lad stood outside the door, waiting for the news, when the sergeant
hurried up, one of the fishermen having gone to tell him what had
happened, as soon as the child had been carried into the
cottage--assuring him, as he did so, that the little one would speedily
come round.

Just as he came up the door of the cottage opened, and one of the
women, who had run in to assist the fisherman's wife, put her head out.

"She has opened her eyes," she said. "The little dear will soon be all
right."

"Thank God for His mercies!" the sergeant said, taking off his hat.
"What should I have done if I had lost her?

"And I have to thank you, next to God," he said, seizing the boy's
hand. "May God bless you, young gentleman! and reward you for having
saved my darling. They tell me she must have been drowned, but for you,
for no one knew she had fallen in. Had it not been for you, I should
come round to look for her, and she would have been gone--gone
forever!" and the showman dashed the tears from his eyes with the back
of his hand.

"I was only just in time," the lad said. "I did not see her fall out of
the boat. She was only a few yards away from it when she came up--just
as my eyes fell on the spot. I am very glad to have saved her for you;
but, of course, it was nothing of a swim. She could not have been many
yards out of my depth. Now I will run home and change my things."

James Walsham was too much accustomed to be wet through, to care
anything about his dripping clothes, but they served him as an excuse
to get away, for he felt awkward and embarrassed at the gratitude of
the old soldier. H