It's a little boy! It's a little boy! Daddy! Oh, mother, look! look! I see him quite plain! It's a little boy. Oh, save him! save him!"  
Pat's little voice, sharpened by fear and pity, rang high through the noise of wind and waves. The cold dawn was breaking over the Rock, and its four were together at the base of the lighthouse with their eyes eagerly upon the vast sheet of heaving and tossing water. The wind had its fury somewhat during the past hours, but the sea was still raging like a wild thing round the sunken reef. The tide, however, had fallen, and there was safe foothold for the little group anxiously gathered together. For some minutes they had all been gazing in the same direction—had been looking towards an object floating in the water, drifting nearer and nearer to them; and now the child's shrill cry broke the silence, and the words the men had not dared to do, though for some moments they, too, had known what it was, to a floating spar, that was being drifted down upon the Lone Rock.
 
"It's a little boy! It's a little boy!" cried Pat, in an agony of sorrow and fear. "Oh, father! Oh, Jim! Will he be killed? Will he be killed? Oh, don't let him be killed! Don't let the waves dash him on the rocks! Oh, what can we do? What can we do?"
 
Eileen covered her eyes with her hand as though to shut out the sight of the thing that seemed as though it must happen. It would be too to see that little frame dashed in pieces before their eyes, even though life might be already extinct. Pat was clinging to her dress in an agony. Nat's voice shook as he made reply to his child—
 
"I'm afraid he's dead already, Pat. He may have been hours in the water with the waves dashing over him. The life is soon beaten out of a strong man like that. A little child could scarce live half-an-hour."
 
"Oh, save him! save him!" cried the child, his voice rising almost to a . "Oh, I don't believe he's dead! See, his head is quite out of the water—only when the waves wash over it. I don't believe he's dead. Oh, don't let him be killed! Save him! save him!"
 
Nat shook his head sadly. He gave an glance at his wife, and she gathered her own child in her arms and sank upon her knees, weeping and prayers and supplications with her tears. Nat stood still and , his gaze fixed upon the spar which carried the body of the child—whether living or dead none could tell—towards those cruel rocks which (if dashed upon them) would surely tear it in pieces before their very eyes. It was a moment that none of those ever forgot who had taken part in it. And only some minutes later did they observe that Jim had moved, and was no longer with them.
 
Pat was the first to note this. He raised his white, tear-stained face from his mother's shoulder, and looking round quickly, asked with sudden eagerness, as though some new idea had struck him—
 
"Where is Jim?"
 
That made them all look round, and then they all saw that Jim had gone within doors, and that he was now issuing with a life-belt round him, to which was attached a long coil of strong rope. He had taken off his coat, his boots, and leggings, and had nothing on but his shirt and trousers, which last was rolled up to the knee. He looked a very strong, muscular fellow as he stood rolling up his shirt sleeves, his face set in lines of the most dogged and determination. Pat gave a little shriek, and rushed forward towards him.
 
"Jim! Jim! what are you going to do?"
 
Nat and Eileen had also come forward, and Nat laid his hand on his assistant's shoulder—
 
"Thou art a brave fellow, Jim," he said (when Nat was moved in spirit he had a way of resorting to thee and thou which he had heard as a child from his Quaker mother), "but thou must not throw away thy life. It is certain death to try and live in yon sea, and thou hast thy duties here to think of. Thou must think of that, too, my good comrade."
 
"I have thought of it," said Jim, "but yet I must go. I know what I am doing. Yon spar will not be washed upon the reef; it will be carried just beyond round the point where we stand. I shall spring off yonder into deep water as it is swept by and seize it, and you will pull me in—for with that burden in my arms I cannot swim. I have not lived all the years on Lone Rock not to know what may and may not be done. It will not be certain death——" He stopped suddenly short. He could not say that it might not be death, and already he had spoken more freely than he had been known to do to any one but the child.
 
Pat rushed up to Jim, and flung his arms round his knees. His face was all in a glow of loving and enthusiasm.
 
"Jim! Jim! Are you going to save the little boy? Oh, Jim, can you bring him safe home to us? Oh, Jim, how brave and good you are! Oh, how I do love you! If I were a man I would go with you, I would, indeed!"
 
Then Jim did a very strange thing—strange at least for him—for he lifted the child up in his arms and kissed him; and Jim had never kissed Pat in his life before. When he held Pat thus he could speak in his ear words that nobody could hear except the two themselves.
 
"Pat," he said, and his voice was rather husky, "it seems just as though the Lord Jesus had told me to trust myself to the waves—to come out to Him, in a manner of speaking, and not to be afraid of the waves or the wind. I don't expect to be able to walk on the water; but it seems like as though He would be there to help me. I've been wanting to find something to do for Him all these weeks. It seems like as though He said to me just now, 'Go and do that, Jim. It's one of My lambs that is in .' So I'm going. And if I don't come back alive, don't you , little master. It's all right. You know what you said yourself you would like to do if you had the chance when you were a man—just to lay down your life—as He did."
 
Pat's tears were running down his cheeks, but he could not try to stay Jim after that, though he realised then that the peril of the rescue would be great. The man put him gently down, and pushed him towards his mother, who took him within her sheltering arms; and then he made his way with Nat cautiously to the very edge of the rocks towards the edge of that great basin—to as it chanced to-night—of the lighthouse, where the water was comparatively calm for a few yards, and where if he sprang in he would find depth to swim without being immediately caught up and by the fury of the sea.
 
Nat saw that his strong and skilled comrade had just a chance of doing what he , and yet escaping with his own life, and he would not seek to hold him back. Every , at one time, or another, risks his life for his fellow-men, and Nat had not been backward in deeds of bravery in his own time. But as keeper of the lighthouse now, and with a wife and child to think for, he could not have taken his life in his hand to-night as Jim purposed to do. Still, he could aid and assist his comrade by his skill and strength, and management of the rope; and he knew that Jim's life, when once he should have taken the , would depend upon the strength and and management which he should show. He his wife to his side, for she was a strong woman, and had grown up amongst scenes of this sort. Eileen understood him in a moment, and came and stood beside him with her hand upon the ropes, ready to second his every effort, and do her share in the work of rescue. Pat stood beside his mother, his little face calm and quiet now, his eyes fixed full upon Jim. There was something in the expression upon all those faces that a painter would have loved to transfer to canvas—a look of lofty courage, of self-renunciation and purpose. Not a word more was spoken; the time for action had come, and all were nerving themselves for it.
 
Although all this takes time to tell, only a few minutes had passed since Pat's first cry before they were all standing here at the edge of the basin, where the boat in the summer months rode at anchor. The sea was wildly past just outside this small basin, and the great waves were bringing nearer with every heave the floating spar, upon which all eyes were . Even Pat now understood exactly what Jim meant to do. It would have been madness for him to try and stem the force of the waves—to attempt to swim out against them. But he might launch himself into the boiling sea, and swim with them just as they were carrying their burden past the lighthouse, and then if he could once grasp it, the united strength of those upon the rocks might be sufficient to haul the double burden back to shore. Nat had already made fast the end of the rope to a great of rock, which rose up like a gigantic needle at the edge of the basin. But all knew that ropes had been known to break beneath the strain which would come upon this one, that the might be cut where it was tied to the rock; and there was just the possibility that those on shore might be pulled into the boiling before Jim and his burden could be dragged . Nat realised this possibility, and his face was very set and grave; for he had the lighthouse to think for as well as his wife and child; and he knew that many, many lives might depend upon that light. The keeper of the lamp must not desert his post, come what might. It would be a fearfully hard choice if it had to be made; but Nat did his duty. If it came to be a question between Jim's life and that of his own duty, Jim must go. To let himself be dragged into the vortex would not save the life of his comrade, but it might cost the lives of tens and even hundreds of fellow-men. Nat's face was set and stern as all this flashed through his mind, but his resolution did not waver.
 
"It's coming! it's coming!" cried Pat, breaking the strained silence with a sudden cry, and he with his little hand towards the dark mass on the water, which was very near to them now. In the grey, but increasing, daylight they could see the face of the little child—the damp hair floating round it, the expression calm and , as though the little one was sleeping in his mother's arms. They could see, too, that there was a great life-buoy about the child, so that it's head had been kept well above the water. It was just possible that life might be restored. Sailors have wonderful experiences of such returns to life after long in the water. Pat could not believe the little boy was dead, and with breathless eagerness he watched Jim quietly slip into the water, and strike out in strong vigorous strokes for the floating spar. Eileen put her hands before her eyes for one moment at the plunge, and then stood up calm and strong.
 
 
"God help him! God be with him!" she murmured softly under her breath, and Nat said "Amen" in deep steady tones.
 
"Wife," he said, after a moment's pause, "remember that the lighthouse is now thy charge and mine. That must be our first duty. We two are its keepers now. God grant we have not to choose between it and yon brave fellow; but if it be His will that it be so, we must remember our duty to those who placed us here, and to those who sail on the sea, and look to be guided by yon light."
 
She understood him in a moment, and nipped his hand.
 
"Pray God it come not to that," she said. "We are both very strong."
 
And then they held their breath to watch the bold swimmer, who was already beyond the shelter of the rocks, exposed to the full play of the sweeping billows, rising and falling like a on the face of the deep, but with every strong stroke approaching more near to the object he had started to seek.
 
Nat was paying out the rope with a look of strained anxiety on his face. Suppose it should not prove long enough! Coil after coil was payed out, and still Jim had not quite come up with the floating spar. Would there be enough? Heaven send he reach it soon!
 
A shout from the child. Pat had clambered a little way above them to get a better view. Now came a wild .
 
"He's got him! He's got him! Oh, brave Jim! Strong Jim! Daddy, he's got him. He's seized him fast. Pull him in! Pull him in quick! Oh, his head keeps going under! He can't help himself now! He keeps his arms fast round the little boy. He's doing something; I can't quite see what! Oh, I see now.... He's cut the rope that ties him to the spar! I can see it floating away by itself. But he's got the little boy! He's got him fast! Oh, daddy, be quick! be quick! Don't let Jim drown! His head does go under so often! Make haste and pull him out! Oh, do make haste! The waves are so big and fierce, and wash over them so often. He always keeps the little boy top; but he keeps going under himself so much. Oh, dear, brave Jim! How I do love you. Oh, daddy, that wave! There was something floating just under the water. It hit Jim; I'm sure it did! Oh, I hope it did not hurt him! He keeps fast hold of the little boy. Oh, they are coming nearer! Do make haste! Do make haste! Oh, I hope they will not both be dead! Oh, hold on strong, Jim! Daddy will pull you in soon; but the sea is so strong! Oh, how I wish the sea was not so cruel! I know now why mother said that it would be a blessed thing when there was no more sea!"
 
Pat was too excited not to keep talking all the time, though some of his words were piped out in shrill tones to his parents below, and some were said beneath his breath to himself. Below at the edge of the basin Nat and Eileen were straining over their task, pulling in the rope hand over hand, and using the pinnacle of rock as a lever to assist their efforts, their faces set and pale, their muscles tense and quivering; for it was a hard task—harder almost than their strength was equal to; for the rush of the hungry water dragging their away was very great, and they dared not relax their efforts for one moment.
 
But Eileen's muscles seemed to be turned into steel, and as Nat said afterwards, he could scarce believe it was not a strong man who stood at his side. The mother instinct in her made her fight as if for life itself for that unknown woman's child, whose life lay in the balance, as well as for honest Jim, who had served her husband so faithfully all these months, and had been such a friend to her own boy, too.
 
"We shall do it yet, wife—thank the Lord!" spoke Nat at length, in laboured , as the strain upon the rope grew less. When once they had the lifeless burden out of the track of the sweeping waves, and into the comparative of the little bay, their task was comparatively easy. Hand over hand the rope came in, bearing the strain well, and showing no sign of , until at last Nat leaned over the edge of the basin, and grasped the child by his floating hair.
 
Not the least difficult part of the business now was the raising of the half-drowned pair—the rescuer and the rescued inextricably locked together—out of the water and on to the safe shelter of the rocks above. Jim was by this time as insensible as the boy he had risked his life to draw ashore, though Nat was confident that he still lived, as he had not been long enough in the water to be past restoring. But his bear-like embrace of the child was hard to ; and only when the pair lay side by side upon the rocks did Nat's strong hands succeed in loosing that rigid clasp.
 
The moment the child was free, Eileen took the dripping form in her arms and bore it indoors. She scarcely dared to hope that the little fellow could be living. There was no means of knowing how long he had been in the water, but it must have been a long while. However, she laid him on her table, with a small cushion beneath his head, dried and his cold limbs, and a steady and gentle in the neighbourhood of the heart. Presently she was almost certain she detected a faint , and redoubled her efforts, disregarding Pat's that she would bring the little boy to the fire because he must be so cold.
 
"Wait a bit, honey," she answered, still rubbing vigorously, and working the little arms up and down in a way which Pat not a little. "We must get the little heart to work before we warm the little body, else the blood will run there and choke it, and it won't be able to beat again. Set the heart going first, and then we'll wrap him in blankets by the fire. That's what I have always been taught. And put the kettle right on the fire, sonny, and get the bath out ready. I do believe—praise the Lord!—that the darling is living still. If he is, and if he gets a bit better, a hot bath will restore him quicker than anything. And get that box of dried herbs and sea-weed from the cupboard. There are some rare good things there for rubbing the skin with. I've seen wonderful cures with them in my young days."
 
Pat was intensely excited as he watched his mother's quick and clever ministrations to the little boy, who already began to look different—less like a child of marble, and more like one of flesh and blood. It seemed very, very long to Pat before his mother looked up with eyes to say he was still alive; but Eileen herself had been surprised at the quickness with which the little heart had begun to beat beneath her hands, and in her own mind that the child could not have been very long in the water before they saw him.
 
Pat ran from the kitchen, where his mother's operations were carried on, to the little room where Jim had been carried by Nat, and reported to each worker the success of the other. Jim very soon began to breathe again. He was not in the state the child had been, but he had evidently received some blow which had injured him in some way Nat could not at once determine. He awoke in great pain, and on trying to move himself became again unconscious; and Nat could only apply hot to the side where the pain seemed to be worst, and get his wife, when she could spare the time, to mix him some of her simples, which had the effect of sending him off to sleep at last.
 
The little boy's case was different altogether. He seemed to have received no injury at all, but to be suffering simply from exposure and the length of time he had been in the water. The bath of herbs and roots prepared by Eileen seemed to have a marvellous effect upon him, and he began to swallow the warm milk in teaspoonfuls which she gave him from time to time, each time with increased ease and eagerness.
 
"He likes it, mother," cried Pat excitedly; "I'm sure he likes it. I do wish he'd open his eyes and smile. Is he asleep, or what?"
 
"I hope he'll be asleep soon," answered Eileen, as she dried him by the fire, and prepared to lay him in her own well-warmed bed. "He's coming round beautiful, and if he doesn't get a fever on it, which I'm in hopes he won't after what I've done for him, he may wake up to know us in another few hours. But he'll be best in bed now; and so would you, honey. You've been up the whole night long, my little son. Shall mother put the pretty little boy to bed first, and then little Pat?"
 
It had not occurred to Pat before that he was tired; but now he found that he could only just keep his eyes open, and that his limbs were quite stiff from . So after seeing the little stranger boy put to bed, he consented to be undressed and fed himself. "Just as if I were a baby myself!" as he said sleepily; and his head had hardly touched the pillow before he fell fast, fast asleep, and slept for more hours at a time than he ever remembered to have done in all his life before.