owly back to his trembling
little playmate, he was "rolling a sweet morsel under his tongue," which
tasted very much like a silver medal--with the string taken out.

"What d'you go off for?" gasped Willy.

"For fun, you outrageous little ninny!" mumbled Gid, tickling Willy
under the arms. "I'm going to get you out, now, and dress you, and send
you home to your mother."

"Dress me, I guess!"

"Well, you'd better scamper!" said Gid, hurriedly, as they got into
their clothes. "Your mother'll have a fit about you."

"My mother? No, she won't. She don't spect the codfish and mackerel till
most supper-time. She said I might play, but she wasn't willing I should
play with you, though, Gid Noonin," said little Willy, squeezing the
water out of his hair.

"But you did, you little scamp! Now run along home. I can't stop to
talk. Got to saw wood."

"Then what made you creep so awful slow when I called to you?" asked
Willy, indignantly.

"O, because I've got such a sore throat," wheezed Gideon. "Off with you!
Scamper!"

Upon that Gid took to his heels, and left Master Willy staring at him,
and wondering what a sore throat had to do with swimming, and what made
Gid in such a hurry all in a minute.

"He's a queer fellow--Gid is! Can't spell worth a cent. Should think
he'd be ashamed to see a little boy like me wear the medal. Glad I
didn't wet it, for the color would have washed out of the string."

With that Willy put his hand in his pocket.

"Out here and show yourself, sir."

This to the medal.

"What! Why, what's this?"

He felt in the other pocket.

"Why! Why!"

He drew out junks of blue clay, wads of twine, a piece of chalk, a
fish-hook, and various other articles more or less wound up in a wad;
but no medal.

"Guess there's a hole in my pocket, and the medal fell through."

And without stopping to examine the pocket, he ran back all the way to
the brook. Nowhere to be found. Not in the grass on either side of the
road; not on the bank.

Then he remembered to look at his pockets; turned them all three inside
out four times. No hole there.

"Well, I never!--Look here, you Oze Wiggins; did you pick up anything in
the grass?"

"Noffin' but a toadstool," replied little Ozem, innocently; and Willy
wondered if he wasn't a half-fool to make such an answer as that.

"Where can that medal be?" said he, with a dry sob.

He did not once suspect that Gideon Noonin had taken it.

"I'll go home and tell my