For several seconds there was breathless silence. The unfortunate little boy had not yet risen, and there was the chance that when he did he might come up at a spot that was completely covered by ice. Happily, however, this contingency had not to be met; for presently a dark object rose a few feet from the boathouse, and the keen-sighted dog struck out gallantly towards it. A moment later, Stranger had fastened his long white teeth into the child's kilted skirts, and set out snorting for the bank.
"Bravo! Bravo!" burst from at least a dozen lips.
Then as the dog, well-nigh exhausted, came within reach, willing hands were stretched forth to relieve him of his burden; and the snow-sweepers, making their reappearance with ropes and a long ladder, saw that their assistance was not wanted after all.
"Tell me," cried Lady Bentford, wringing her hands over the dripping form of her child, "does he still breathe?"
"Yes, he is living," came the answer.
Hearing which, Lord Bentford, almost beside himself with gratitude, turned impulsively aside to address the owner of the dog.
The long spell of misery and privation, however, coupled with the terrible excitement of the morning, had proved too great a strain for Dick Wilkins's endurance. He had borne up until the safety of Lord Bentford's son had been accomplished. He had kept his senses whilst the crowd had cheered and commended his dog; but now, he sank down with a groan upon the bank close to the boathouse, and ere his lordship reached his side consciousness left him, and he fainted.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
STRANGER'S MISSION FULFILLED.
IT was not until several weeks later, that entire consciousness returned to little Dick. And then, to his great amazement, he found himself lying in a strange bed, too weak to move either hand or foot, whilst a cheerful looking nurse, clad in a dark dress and white cap, cuffs, and apron, sat on a chair near the window watching him.