in hand, to receive the expected
attack.

At the sight of le Cochon the dog emitted a howl of wrath. With the
marvellous judgment, however, of the trained animal that will not be
turned from the trail of a deer by the scent of skunk, this sight
scarcely checked his plunge.

Tartar's divination was unerring. He wasted no effort in battling with
the current or paddling around in a circle, but turned at once and
swam rapidly with the stream. He spent no breath in useless
vociferation. All his canine strength was put forth to an end. And
these instincts were quickly rewarded by the sight of a strange
object floating ahead of him,--something a little higher, than the
water.

The fiend who had packed the old rags into the bottom of the pannier
with the double motive of indicating an accident and of carrying the
child under beneath its weight had overdone the trick. For the rags,
once soaked, proved so much heavier than the frail body that it turned
turtle and threw the child face upward and partially above the
surface. The load instead of sinking buoyed her up, and, being
strapped securely to it, she could not fall off. Whereas if she had
simply been thrown into the river without these precautions, she would
have gone to the bottom.

With a succession of low whines now that were almost human sobs, the
excited spaniel quickened his stroke, if, indeed, such a thing were
possible, and redoubled his energies. He saw that it was the body of
his beloved mate.

But when he reached the floating object and seized it with his teeth
it was to find that he was powerless to drag it ashore. In vain he
struggled and splashed and tugged at it. The load was too much for
him. Almost frantic from disappointment, he soon became exhausted. He
seemed to realize that he would not only be unable to save his little
mistress, but was likely to perish with her. It was not long before
his fight ceased. He hung on by his teeth now to keep from sinking.

Thus the combination, waterlogged basket, unconscious girl, and
exhausted dog, floated silently along, under the National Bridge, past
the bridge of Tolbiac, and came opposite the great freight-yards of
the Orleans Railway on the left and the greater Entrepots de Bercy on
the right.

The homeless of both sexes that swarm the shelter of the bridges of
the Seine were just awakening to life and a renewed sense of misery.
The thin fog had begun to lift. The sharper eyes of the dog discovered
the p