“Yellow streak nothing! A chap that’d take the chance you took when you jumped for that boat is true blue all the way through!”
Varley cast a swift glance at the rest of the club; he saw that they were out of ear-shot, yet he lowered his voice:
“Parker, you heard me squeal when that crash came—when the big barge hit the old house? Of course you heard me! Now, honestly, that was just nerves, but I could have bitten out my tongue a minute after I’d yelled for help. But it wouldn’t have done any good. You’d heard me; the crowd had heard me. So I made up my mind that if the opportunity came to make good for that break, I’d seize it. So when you and I grabbed for the boat and missed it—why—why—well, we just had to stop that boat from drifting away. So I went after it. That’s the story in a nutshell.”
Sam, the undemonstrative, gripped Paul’s hand.
“It was the pluckiest and quickest witted job I ever saw,” he declared. “And that’s what every one of the fellows thinks, too.”
Had Varley had doubts of this, they must have been removed, as leaning from a car window, he waved farewell to the Safety First Club. For, of a sudden, the Shark, once his bitterest critic, stepped forward, pulled off his hat, and led in a cheer that gained in hearty volume from beginning to end.
“What’s the matter with Paul Varley? He’s all right!” chanted the Shark.
“Hurrah for Varley! Rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, Varley!” chorused the club with a will.
The Stories in this Series are: