“Give it here, then.”
The creature was indeed showing feeble symptoms of revival, so Brooke—whose bosom was not only recovering its own heat, but was beginning to warm the wet garments—thrust it into his own breast, and the two friends set off homeward at a run.
At the nearest house they made inquiry as to the owner of the kitten, but failed to find one. Our hero therefore resolved to carry it home. Long before that haven was reached, however, his clothes were nearly dry, and the rescued one was purring sweetly, in childlike innocence—all the horrors, sufferings, and agonies of the past forgotten, apparently, in the enjoyment of the present.
Chapter Two.
The Shipwreck.
We have no intention of carrying our reader on step by step through all the adventures and deeds of Charlie Brooke. It is necessary to hasten over his boyhood, leaving untold the many battles fought, risks run, and dangers encountered.
He did not cut much of a figure at the village school—though he did his best, and was fairly successful—but in the playground he reigned supreme. At football, cricket, gymnastics, and, ultimately, at swimming, no one could come near him. This was partly owing to his great physical strength, for, as time passed by he shot upwards and outwards in a way that surprised his companions and amazed his mother, who was a distinctly little woman—a neat graceful little woman—with, like her stalwart son, a modest opinion of herself.
As a matter of course, Charlie’s school-fellows almost worshipped him, and he was always so willing to help and lead them in all cases of danger or emergency, that “Charlie to the rescue!” became quite a familiar cry on the playground. Indeed it would have been equally appropriate in the school, for the lad never seemed to be so thoroughly happy as when he was assisting some boy less capable than himself to master his lessons.