et of water, and, reaching down, he caught it with his hand. A moment
later and the drowned girl, with Binks clutched in her death-grip, was
drawn into the boat.

A scream of joy from the reviving mother of the girl rent the air.
Having been unconscious of the passage of time, she evidently thought
her child might yet be alive. As the boatman gently pulled toward the
rocks, John disengaged Binks from the stiff fingers, and held him in his
lap.

"Poor mut!" the boatman said. "She choked the life out of him. They are
always like that--they will grab at a floating chip. Turn the girl's
head down, will you, and let the water run out? There may be a speck of
life left, but I think she is as dead as a mackerel."

Putting Binks aside, John obeyed. The girl's face was purple, her lips
foaming. The rocks reached, the two Italian men, their yellow faces
stamped with agony, were ready up to their waists in water to take the
girl ashore.

John knew nothing about what is called "first aid to the drowning," and
so, with his dead pet in his arms, he climbed up the rocks. Men were
gathering from the two boat-houses. He heard somebody say, "There is a
cop and a doctor!" The screaming women, the sobbing children, the awed
questions of spectators just arrived, fell on closed ears, as far as
John was concerned. Picking up his coat, he wrapped it about Binks and
bore him homeward. Looking back, he saw the doctor examining the body on
the rocks. John sat down alone in the sun. He told himself that he would
let his clothing dry on him as he walked homeward. But what was to be
done about the body of his pet? He couldn't take it home with him, and
he knew of no burial-ground for dogs. He sat down on the shore to think
it out. His mind was in a queer jumble of resentment and resigned
despair. How could Binks actually be dead? How could he go home without
him? And yet the wet, limp object with the bulging, glazed eyes and
distorted muzzle was all that was left of the loving, vivacious animal
to which he had been so warmly linked.

The doctor was coming back. He passed John, and then paused. "Is that
the dog she drowned?" he asked, bending down sympathetically and
stroking the animal's coat.

"Yes. How is the girl?" John asked.

"Dead," was the answer, and the doctor stood erect and walked away.

For several hours John remained on the shore. He saw the Italians
bearing the girl's body away, followed by the women and children. Then a
thou