"Quick, let us try to save him," he called to John Hagan.

 

They plunged their oars into the water, and the boat bounded over the waves. Fortunately they were but half a dozen rods from the place where the would-be suicide was now struggling to keep himself up. For, as frequently happens, when he actually found himself in the water, the instinct of self-preservation impelled the would-be self-destroyer to attempt to save himself. He could swim a very little, but the waters of the lake were in lively motion, his boat had floated away, and he would inevitably have drowned but for the energetic action of Luke and John. They swept their boat alongside, and Luke thrust his oar in the direction of the struggling man.

 

"Take hold of it," he said, "and we will tow you to your own boat."

 

Guided and sustained by the oar, the man gripped the side of Luke's boat, leaving the oar free. His weight nearly overbalanced the craft, but with considerable difficulty the boys succeeded in reaching the other boat, and, though considerably exhausted, its late occupant managed to get in.

 

As he took his place in the boat he presented a sorry spectacle, for his clothes were wet through and dripping.

 

"You will take your death of cold unless you go on shore at once," said Luke.

 

"It wouldn't matter much if I did," said the young man, gloomily.

 

"We will row to shore also," said Luke to John Hagan. "He may make another attempt to drown himself. I will see what I can do to reason him out of it."

 

They were soon at the pier, and the three landed.

 

"Where do you live?" asked Luke, taking his position beside the young man.

 

The latter named a number on Vine Street. It was at a considerable distance, and time was precious, for the young man was trembling from the effects of his immersion.

 

"There is no time to lose. We must take a carriage," said Luke.

 

He summoned one, which fortunately had just returned from the pier, to which it had conveyed a passenger, and the two jumped in.

 

Luke helped him up to his room, a small one on the third floor, and remained until he had changed his clothes and was reclining on the bed.

 

"You ought to have some hot drink," he said. "Can any be got in the house?"

 

"Yes; Mrs. Woods, the landlady, will have some hot water."

 

Luke went downstairs and succeeded in enlisting the sympathetic assistance of the kind-hearted woman by representing that her lodger had been upset in the lake and was in danger of a severe cold.

 

When the patient had taken down a cup of hot drink, he turned to Luke and said: "How can I thank you?"

 

"There is no need to thank me. I am glad I was at hand when you needed me."

 

"What is your name?"

 

"Luke Walton."

 

"Mine is Ambrose Kean. You must think I am a fool,"

 

"I think," said Luke, gently, "that you have some cause of unhappiness."

 

"You are right there. I have been unfortunate, but I am also an offender against the law, and it was the fear of exposure and arrest that made me take the step I did. I thought I was ready to die, but when I found myself in the water life seemed dearer than it had before, and I tried to escape. Thanks to you, I am alive, but now I almost wish that I had succeeded. I don't know how to face what is before me."