roximity of human beings before the latter could see him, and he
let go of his floater long enough to utter a few sharp yelps of
distress.

A tramp, wider awake or less benumbed by liquor than his fellows,
heard the sounds from the river and called the attention of
companions.

A dog in distress,--it was enough to rouse the sympathetic blood of
any true Parisian. The more active of the men ran vociferously along
the bank, raising the watchmen of either shore.

Numerous barges and tugs lay moored along the Quai de la Gare. From
these lights began to show. Men sprang up as if by magic. Those on one
side of the river shouted to those on the other side to find out what
was the matter, and the other side shouted back that they didn't
know,--but it was somebody or something in the river. As there is
always "somebody" in the river, the idea did not attract so much
attention as the possibility that it was "something."

When it was ascertained that it was a dog--which followed upon
additional pathetic appeals from the water--there was wild excitement
all along the line. Men tumbled over barrels and boxes, and ran plump
up against walls, and fell into pits, and even into the river itself,
in their anxiety to keep pace with the sounds from the fog.

Others began hastily to get out boats, and ran about with lanterns and
oars and ends of rope and other life-saving paraphernalia. These boats
put off simultaneously from either side, and contained police agents,
bargemen, roustabouts, watchmen, watermen, and bums. As the
inhabitants of the Long Island shore at the cry of "A whale!" man the
boats and race to get in the first harpoon, so these rivermen of the
Seine now pulled for a drowning dog.

The conflicting sounds of human voices, the grating of boats against
the stones, the rattle of chains, the splash of oars, were plainly
heard and as plainly understood by the intelligent animal now
struggling with death. Through his set jaws, which still clung to the
child's clothing, or, rather, through his nose, there came occasional
whines of distress that were almost heart-rending in their intensity.

These last faint appeals for help directed the rescuers.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed a waterman, nearing the spot and rowing
alongside.

"It's a child!" screamed another.

"No, it's a dog," said a third.

The light was still uncertain and objects confusing.

"It's dog and child----"

"It's dead!"

"Not yet, monsieur."

"I mean t