thrilled with admiration, in spite of the confusion of
his thoughts, he did as directed, and took the child to land at once.

Madge was there as soon as he, crying, even before she left the water,
"Run for Dr. Sommers, and if not at home ride after him."

Meanwhile gentlemen and employes of the house were arriving, and some
turned back in search of the physician.

The awful tidings had come upon poor Mrs. Wilder, the mother of the
child, like a bolt out of a clear sky, and she had run screaming and
moaning toward the scene of disaster. Mother love had given her almost
superhuman strength; but when she saw the pale little face on the
ground, with the hue of death upon it, she crouched beside it in
speechless agony, and watched the efforts that were made to bring back
consciousness.

Madge led and directed these efforts. In truth, she did as much to
save the child on land as when it had lain submerged on the muddy
bottom of the pond. Graydon, seeing that she was coming up the bank,
had paused a moment irresolutely, and then was about to start for the
hotel with his burden. Madge caught his arm, and took the child from
him.

"Graydon, take off your coat and give it to me," she said,
imperatively, as she laid the child down on its back; "your
handkerchief, also," she added.

She forced open the pale lips, and wiped out the mouth with marvellous
celerity, paying no heed to the clamorous voices around her. "Some one
give me a sharp knife," she cried, "and don't crowd so near."

Lifting the child's clothing at the throat, she cut it down ward to
the waist, then down each arm, leaving the lovely little form exposed
and free. Dropping the knife, she next rolled the coat into a bundle,
turned the child over so that her abdomen should rest upon it; then
with hands pressed rather strongly on each side of the little back,
Madge sought to expel the water that might have been swallowed.
Turning the child over on her back again, the bundle made by the coat
was placed under the small of her back, so as to raise the chest.
Then, catching the little tongue that had awakened merry echoes but
a few moments before, she drew it out of the mouth to one side by the
aid of the handkerchief, and said to Graydon, "Hold it, so."

All now saw that they were witnessing skilled efforts. Discordant
advice ceased, and they looked on with breathless interest.

"Has any one smelling salts?" Madge asked. There was no response. She
snatched a bi