"How did he get hurt? How did he ever escape?" the stranger asked. "You should have seen him standing there in the rushing waters pushing back the bank as he seemed to think. I was coming down the track there," he continued, "and called out, 'Run for your life.' It was too late, the dam burst that moment. I stood over the roaring abyss and looked for the lad. That minute he comes up, then goes down again. I hesitated to jump in. 'He's done for, anyhow, I thought,' and a man could not swim in them waters. Then up he comes again. 'He's some one's poor child,' I thought, 'I'll try anyhow,' and in I jumps. I don't know how I got him out. I was nigh done myself, and swallowed gallons. I was dazed with the waters whirling me about. Just then he almost knocked agin me. I grabbed him. Round we goes again; somehow out of the eddy at last. With a last stroke I gets to the shore. Then the rummiest thing of all comes. Makes me think I'm in a dream. I washes his face and looks, and I sees—it's my son."
Again the poor fellow began to rock the lad in his arms and to weep like a child.
"How he got there at all, I don't know; I left him in town."
"You must be mistaken," said Travers, who had not heard the child's story; "but never mind, come and get him into the trap."
Willie was now recovering; he rubbed his eyes.
"Am I awake?" he said, looking round bewildered. "I thought you was drownded, miss. I seed yous two walkin' on and on—you'd not come back nor wait for me—along to the gates of Paradise they singed about at t' hospital. The only thing was, you was going down, down, somehow, 'stead of up above."
Willie rubbed his eyes again, and stared up at the rough head bent over him in wonder.
