peak of rock that was thrust above the tide, and shook
back the long black hair from his eyes.

He was a wild looking person. His feet were bare and his ragged trousers
were rolled to his knees. He wore neither vest nor coat, and his shirt
was open at his throat. To Ruth he seemed very bronzed and rough
looking.

But whoever, or whatever, he might be, the girl prayed that he would
prove able to rescue Uncle Jabez. She felt that she could save herself,
but she was having all she could do to bear up the unconscious miller.

"Hold on!" shouted the rescuer again.

Once more he plunged forward. He disappeared off the rock. Was he
swimming again? The half-overturned boat hid him from Ruth's gaze.

Suddenly he shouted close at hand. Up he bobbed on the higher point of
rock just beyond the boat.

"What's the matter, Missy?" he demanded. "Is the old man hurt?"

"He hit his head. See! he is unconscious," explained Ruth.

"I'll get him! Look out, now; I've got to push off this old boat, Missy.
She ain't no good, anyway."

Ruth saw that he was a big, black-haired, strong looking boy. His
complexion was very dark and his eyes sparkling--like cut jet beads. He
might have been seventeen or eighteen years old, but he was fully as
tall, and apparently as strong, as an ordinary man.

His long hair curled and was tangled like a wild man's. His beard had
begun to grow on his lip and chin. In his ears Ruth saw small gold rings
and his wrists and forearms--which were bared--were covered with an
intricate pattern of tattooing in red and blue ink.

Altogether, she had never seen so strange a boy in all her life--and
certainly none so strong. He leaped into the broken boat, seized Ruth's
oar that had not been lost in the overset, and bracing it against the
rock, pushed the trembling boat free in a moment.

Ruth could not repress a scream. It looked as though he, too, must be
thrown into the river, as the boat was caught by the current and jerked
free.

But the wild boy laughed and leaped upon the higher part of the rock. As
the miller's old boat drifted down stream, he sprang into the water
again and reached the girl and her burden.

"Give him to me!" commanded the boy. "I can bear him up better than you,
Missy. We'll get him ashore--and you can't be any wetter than you are
now."

"Oh, never mind me!" cried Ruth. "I am not afraid of a ducking. And I
can swim."

"You don't want to try swimming in _this_ place, Missy," he ret