the pond, and the little fellow reached over to
recover it. In doing so he lost his balance and fell into the water; there
was a scream and a splash, and Ernest no sooner saw the accident than he
ran up, threw off his coat and vest, lest he should wet the bonds, and
plunged into the pond.

The young bank messenger was an expert swimmer, and in an instant had
seized the child and placed him out of danger. The little Indian boy clung
to him instinctively, feeling safe with his young protector.

"Where do you live, little boy?" asked Ernest.

"Out yonder," answered the child.

Ernest had not been quite sure whether he would be able to understand or
speak English, but having been brought up among white people he was as
familiar with English as most white boys of his age.

Ernest looked in the direction pointed out by the boy. At the distance of
a hundred rods he saw a rude log-house. Smoke was curling from a chimney.
Outside sat an Indian about forty years of age smoking a pipe.

He seemed busily thinking, having the grave face characteristic of the
average Indian. He did not immediately notice the approach of his little
son. But when they were near the Indian boy uttered a cry, pronouncing
some Indian word which possibly meant "father."

Then the red man looked up, and his grave face changed as he recognized
his boy in the company of a young white stranger.

He rose hastily from his seat and advanced to meet the two who were
approaching.

"What has happened?" he asked in clear and distinct English.

"Your little boy fell into the water," explained Ernest.

"And you saved him?"

"Yes," answered Ernest modestly. "I saw him fall and jumped in after
him."

"Was the water deep?"

"About so deep," said Ernest, placing his hand about five feet from the
ground.

"Then he would have been drowned if you had not been near?"

"Yes, if he could not swim."

"He is too young to swim. But you are wet," added the Indian, noticing for
the first time the condition of Ernest's clothes.

"Yes, a little."

"Come in," said the Indian abruptly.

He led the way into the log-cabin.

There was a stove in the center of the room, and the air was so heated as
to be uncomfortable. As he led the child in a stout Indian woman came
forward with a cry and took him in her arms. Her husband rapidly explained
what had happened. She instantly stripped the clothes from the child and
put on a dry change.

"Now," said the Indian, turn