Not very many minutes, and all at once a cry of anguish broke from the treacherous waters. The boys turned at it; they came running from far and near. Mrs. Loftus, Mrs. Gall, who had much ado to keep their petticoats down over their crinolines, looked in the direction and wondered what the cry meant; and Mr. Loftus came sauntering up. Like his son Bertie he rarely hurried. Sir Simon trotted in more quickly. Another cry!—a cry as from one hopelessly drowning.
"It's Dick! it's Dick!" shrieked Bertie. "Where's the boat? Where's the man?"
Ah, then was commotion. Dick it was, who had been experimenting on the waves on his own account. They ran hither and thither, shouting for the man, calling for the boat; but the man did not answer, and the boat was not on service to-day. While they were running like madmen, all in confusion, Mr. Loftus stood in helpless despair—a very incapable man, he, in any sudden emergency.
But see! While they have been crying and calling, another has been doing. Some one who threw off his superfluous clothing, plunged into the waves, and is nearing the drowning boy. He gains—he gains upon him! He has him in his hands now, and is turning to battle back to shore again; and a silent prayer is going up from many a heart to heaven. There ensues a pause of agonized suspense; and then a low murmur of thankfulness, gradually rising into a shout of admiration, breaks out from the spectators. Sir Simon Orville fairly dances in his glee, while the tears run down his cheeks.
"Who is it that has saved him?" asked Mr. Loftus, feeling as if the one half of his substance, the whole gratitude of his remaining years, might well be given in recompense. The beaming generous grey eyes of the rescuer met his in answer, and he knew them for George Paradyne's.
Mr. Dick was conveyed in rather an ignominious fashion to the yellow Maison de Sauvetage, followed by a long tail, who were shut out unceremoniously. Brown major's brother, announcing himself in obscure French as a "doctoor," was allowed to enter. The attendants placed Dick in one of the beds that the room contained, and a French surgeon, springing it was hard to say whence, appeared upon the scene. But no vigorous means of resuscitation were resorted to, simply because the patient, who was not very far gone, revived without them. George Paradyne, meanwhile, was quietly dressing himself, throwing off thanks and homage as he best could. Sir Simon Orville, however, would not be thrown off. He took possession of him and carried him back in triumph to the Hotel du Nord to dinner.
George was shown to a chamber to brush his still wet hair, when Mr. Loftus came in, and held out his hand.
"How can I show my gratitude to you for what you have done?"
"Oh, sir, thank you; but it does not deserve any particular gratitude," was the boy's laughing answer, as he resigned perforce his right hand, while his left held the hair-brush. "I am so very glad I happened to be there."
"Where did you learn to swim like that?"