a lthough it had been subdued, and was deprived of its fangs, the fire continued to burn for several days. it burrowed deep into the sawdust, and lurked amid the great masses of black rubbish where once had been lumber and lath, as if loth to leave its mangled prey.

the out-of-town firemen returned home that evening, but all that night, and up to the middle of the next week, the beaufort department kept streams playing upon the smoking ruins.

for a time these sorry-looking yards were regarded by bob and ned and other beaufort youth as a very entertaining place. it was fun to explore the desolate area, and conjecture what had been on this spot, and what on that. no small spice of danger, too, was offered by the tempting, swaying run-ways and crumbling piles. but at length the sport palled, and the beaufort boys sought elsewhere for amusement and occupation.

in regard to occupation, ned did not have to seek far. at his back door-step were those eleven loads of wood. one saturday had come and gone, and scarcely an impression had been made upon the grim mountain of slabs. this was the last week of school; another saturday, and then he must pile every day until he had performed his duty. that done he would be free to do about as he pleased.

could wishing have availed, those slabs would have been in halifax very soon, consigned there by ned. but of course mr. miller would have promptly ordered eleven more loads, and since in beaufort were several lumber yards to draw upon, ned’s case, even were halifax to aid him, was hopeless.

he did what any sensible boy would have done; he pitched into the wood, working after school and all day saturday, and by the opening of the vacation he had dug a great cave in the flank of the mountain. like the majority of tasks, this one, when stoutly tackled, was not so big as it had appeared.

in regard to the amusement, this never could be lacking while the river flowed past the town. the warm rains and sun of the spring had taken the chill from the water, and had made it almost comfortable for swimming, when down had rushed the freshet, with its icy flood of melted snow, and had spoiled matters. now the mississippi was again at its ordinary level, and under the influence of the summer weather was rapidly assuming an agreeable temperature.

by the wireless telegraphy of boyhood the news that there was “good swimming” traversed beaufort from end to end.

ned, who had been fuming all the spring because his father had refused to let him go in until the water was warmer, and thus had deprived him of the glory of being among the first, received the tidings with rejoicing. surely, june was not too early for bathing!

bob was more callous about the news. you see, already he had indulged in a number of plunges, not to speak of the dive from the barn window; therefore his enthusiasm had cooled.

“can’t i go swimming now, father?” begged ned, immediately upon hearing the reports. “all the fellows have been in and they say the water is just as warm as milk! if you’d only stick your hand in it you’d see, yourself.”

“i haven’t had much of a chance to ‘stick my hand in it,’ yet, considering that my arm isn’t four blocks long—and that is the nearest i have been to the river, lately,” replied mr. miller, laughing. “but if ‘all the fellows’ say so, it must be true.”

“hal’s father has let him go,” argued ned, eagerly.

“i’ve nothing to do with mr. lucas’s notions—nor have they anything to do with me, ned,” responded mr. miller. “the miller affairs give me all that i can attend to. however, i guess, if you’ll be careful and not stay in too long, you can go ahead.”

“and don’t get in where it’s deep,” cautioned mrs. miller.

“oh, pshaw, mother!” replied ned. “six feet is as bad as a mile—and it’s easier swimming where it’s real deep, too.”

“well, i hate to have you go,” said his mother, stroking his hair. “you promise to be very careful, won’t you, and not bathe so often or stay in so long that it makes you weak, or——”

“yes, mother. don’t you be afraid,” he answered, giving her a hearty hug.

“and don’t neglect that wood,” suggested his father, with a twinkle in his eye.

“that’s for mornings; i have my afternoons ‘off,’” called back ned, capering out of the house. in a second he stuck his head in through a window and cried: “i nearly forgot to say ‘thank you,’ father, didn’t i?”

“i believe you did, ned,” assured his father; and ned vanished.

“i really don’t see how it is possible that the water should be warm, so soon,” declared mrs. miller, anxiously, to her husband.

“i, either,” he replied, smiling. “but ned can stand it if the other boys can. it won’t hurt him any.”

“i suppose not,” assented mrs. miller, doubtfully.

well, to tell the fact, the water was not especially warm, in spite of what “all the fellows” had declared. it was as warm as milk—but that must have referred to old milk, not fresh; perhaps milk which had been in an ice-box.

at least, so ned thought, when gingerly he started to wade out, for the first swim of the season. he stepped in, ankle-deep—and his toes curled, and his knees shook, and with a hasty exclamation he sprang back.

“oh, jump in all at once!” urged hal. “’tisn’t cold; it’s fine,” and he paddled around to show his perfect satisfaction.

ned was disappointed. when, on the way over in the boat, they had dabbled with their fingers, to test, the water had seemed just right; but now—ugh!

he tried again, and waded manfully until in above his knees; here he faltered. the other boys, who had been through the ordeal and were happy, began to splash him with chilling drops, so that his naked body shrank, and he shivered and begged.

“i’m coming! i’m coming!” he chattered. “only let me be, a minute.”

“then wet over or we’ll douse you!” threatened his persecutors, menacing him, in a half-circle.

“i will! i will! quit! don’t you see i am?” implored ned, wading a little farther. “gimme a chance to wet my head so i won’t have cramp, can’t you?”

he stopped, and raising water in his hands dabbled it upon his chest and back and hair, trying to get used by degrees to the change. to his fingers the goose-flesh on him felt like stubble!

bob, joining forces with the other scoffing spectators, raced along the shallows of the beach, barking his derision. great cats! what a silly boy! he had been in and out of the water a dozen times.

suddenly ned drew a big breath, shut his eyes, and ducked under, sousing himself completely. he emerged choking, staggering, gasping, while his companions, tickled into spasms of merriment, wallowed and shrieked.

but ned minded not; the worst was past. he boldly lunged ahead for a swim, and the water was not a bit cold.

beaufort bathers had choice of three favorite resorts. first, there were the rafts, brought down by the steamboats for the mills, and laid up against the shore, waiting their turn to be sawed into lumber—and slabs for ned to pile! sometimes their outer edge extended clear to the channel, and to dive from here into the swift, dusky current thirty feet in depth was tremendously exhilarating. when you came to the surface you were fifteen or twenty yards below the point whence you had started.

at the lower end of the rafts was slack water, where you could swim with no fear of being carried away. an especially good feature about the rafts lay in the fact that the logs were nice and clean, and when you dressed you did not get sand in your stockings.

second, there was the large sand-bar opposite the upper part of town. in low water this bar was enormous, comprising several acres. its foot shelved rapidly, so that you could dive from the firm brink into six feet of beautiful, still water. the bar reached up-river, it seemed forever; and over the dry, fine sand, or splattering madly, with the water only to your ankles (keeping, of course, a sharp lookout for step-offs) and your flat soles sending the sparkling drops far and wide, you could run around until tired. the sand-bar was the best resort of the three.

in very low water, it was possible to wade from it to the mainland on the beaufort side; and to swim to the other mainland was no trick at all, if you knew the shortest route.

third, there was the sandy beach across the river. this was the place most popular; for although the water here was not so sweet and fresh as that of the rafts and bar, the beach was convenient, safe, and available throughout the season.

the rafts were not safe for the weak swimmer, because of the current; at a normal stage of water the bar was a mere uncertain patch; but the beach was always good-natured and ready.

at present it was to the beach that ned and his chums went. off the rafts the water was decidedly frigid; the sand-bar was just beginning to show its face, covered with a thin coating of mud left by the receding freshet—and how cold this water in the middle of the river was! the beach now held open house for beauforters, young and old.

the boys went over every afternoon in ned and hal’s scull-boat and in skiffs. the entertainment afforded by the beach was endless. a quarter of a mile above, a point of land jutted out, thus throwing the current from the shore. in some places the beach sloped gently; in others it pitched abruptly into the water. you could wade or you could dive, or you could bravely launch yourself, paddle a short distance, and if you had aimed exactly right you could then let yourself down upon a shoal, with the water up to your neck, and the undertow tugging at your feet. or you could swim straight out until into the current, and turning upon your back could deliciously float along as far as you deemed prudent, with the sky over your face, and the shore passing in review in the corner of an eye, and the saucy waves slapping at your nose.

between times, here was the soft, hot sand in which to roll and bask.

not to be omitted from the program were those times when a rafter, or a stern-wheeler packet, ploughed up stream (the up-boats raised the biggest swells), spreading in-shore long rollers and breakers whose oncoming was rapturously awaited by the bevy of bathers.

the beach resort was so well rummaged and understood, that rarely did a tragedy occur at it, and had ned and his crowd stayed strictly within bounds they would not have met with this experience which is about to be related.

on an afternoon toward the last of june they were swimming at the beach; two boat-loads of them—ned and hal and bob, frank dalby, sam dalrymple, orrie lukes, tom pearce, phil ruthers, les porter, and others. they had been skylarking to their hearts’ content; playing tag, leap-frogging into the water, or diving slily and catching an unsuspecting friend around the ankles. the scull-boat had been capsized, and much sport was found in coming up under it, where was air-space for breathing, and hooting for the benefit of the outsiders. the packet pittsburg, which had the reputation of making the highest waves of any of the steamers save the rafter reindeer, even had surged by, leaving behind her swells and joy.

all was peace and good humor, when a skiff was descried approaching.

the boys glanced only carelessly at it, until ned exclaimed:

“say! there comes the south beaufort gang!”

his words put a damper upon the frolicking. all gazed uneasily, and fidgeted. the rough boys forming what was styled the “south beaufort gang” were their regular enemies.

“well, who cares?” demanded tom pearce, defiantly.

“that’s what i say,” chimed in les porter. “they don’t own the beach.”

“no; but they’ll try to run us off,” asserted hal. “those sullivans are always spoiling for a fight, and they don’t fight fair, either.”

“they chaw raw beef on you, and paste mud at you,” complained orrie lukes, the smallest of the party.

“eight of them,” remarked sam dalrymple, who had been counting. “the two sullivans, and the conners, and big mike farr, and i don’t know who else.”

“i tell you, fellows,” suggested ned; “we don’t want any trouble—let’s go down to the breakwater and fool.”

the plan met with some grumbling from tom and les and other stubborn spirits; but it won, and dumping their clothes into their skiff they made a change of base, wading and swimming and towing their boats, the scull-boat bottom up.

the south beaufort gang did not follow them, but, disembarking upon the beach, went in swimming.

the breakwater was a few rods down stream. it was a long, stout parapet of heavy, square timbers laid end to end, bolted and braced. it extended up from the bridge, parallel with the shore, for two hundred yards, and was designed to aid the rafters in sliding their rafts through; it held the rafts off from the shore.

behind it was water more or less shallow, and lukewarm from the sun. in front of it was deep water, and considerable current.

at the risk of getting numerous splinters some of the boys scaled the breakwater by running up the braces planted against it in the rear, the others amused themselves among the tiny bays and inlets formed between it and the shore line. bob, after vainly trying to follow ned to the top, decided that he would take a turn through the near-by woods.

the breakwater was amply broad enough to give secure footing. the boys lolled about upon it, the sunshine soaking them through and through, and the novelty of their high position adding to the fun.

“come on; let’s dive, all together,” proposed ned, briskly rousing to action.

“that’s right—all together,” seconded tom.

nobody opposed, and the six of them stood in a row.

“i’ll count, and at ‘three’ down we go,” said ned. “make ready——”

“sam and i are going to jump; because when we dive head-first we get water up our nose,” explained phil ruthers.

“aw, it’s only eight or ten feet!” protested hal.

“just the same, i’m not going to get water up my nose,” declared sam, irritated.

“make ready,” warned ned, again; and the boys poised for the plunge.

“one—two—three!” cried ned.

with six splashes, almost like one, they struck the water and disappeared, the four divers entering in regulation style, but sam and phil upright, each with one hand closing tight his precious nose.

in a moment heads bobbed, one after another, above the surface, their owners shaking them vigorously and snorting and blowing, while lustily swimming, hand over hand, for the breakwater.

this the boys climbed from in front by sticking their toes into the wide cracks between the lines of timbers, and by clinging to protruding bolts. once more on the top, they were resting, and chaffing when, in a startled tone, hal exclaimed:

“why—where’s tom?”

quite so; where was tom? six figures had left the breakwater, but only five were upon it now! the boys looked at each other inquiringly.

“maybe he’s with the other crowd,” volunteered sam, and peering over he called down to ask. tom wasn’t there.

“perhaps he’s hiding, to scare us,” guessed frank dalby, weakly.

“no—tom wouldn’t do that,” asserted ned; and the faces of the boys grew pale. “he must be down there still!” leaning over and scanning the placid current. “i bet he never came up! where was he standing?”

“he was right between hal and me,” excitedly said phil. “wasn’t he, hal? and i stood here—just exactly, because i remember it by the broken nut on this bolt.”

“tom! oh, tom!” shouted frank, hopelessly.

no answer. the news had passed to the remainder of the bathers, below, and a buzz of frightened talk arose.

“i’m going after him,” hurriedly announced ned. “you fellows watch close. i reached bottom easy before.”

“so did i, so did i! let me go! i’ll go!” came an eager chorus.

“i’m first,” replied ned, with dogged firmness.“get out of the way, hal! if i find him you fellows can come down and help.”

placing himself a little above where tom had stood, he dived with all his might.

in a few kicks he brought up against the muddy bottom. groping around about him in the cold, rayless regions, he suffered the current to bear him slowly along, now and then paddling enough to keep himself from rising.

he felt beneath him mud; nothing but mud; slimy, oozy, freezing mud with clam-shells and sticks and rocks embedded in it. then, on a sudden, his hands felt something else—a smooth, not unfamiliar object—it was a leg—it was tom! yes, tom!

ned’s heart made a great leap of joy. with tom in his arms he shot upward—it seemed an endless journey—and bursting, exhausted, but exulting, reached the surface.

the instant that he came in sight the boys—by this time the breakwater held them all—who had been watching and waiting, saw at once his burden, and swarmed to his rescue. they towed the unconscious tom through a gap in the timbers, and stretched him in the sun upon the hot sand, and rubbed him, and rolled him, and worked so fiercely that in fifteen minutes he showed signs of life, again.

another fifteen, and he moaned; at which bob, who was much moved by the proceedings, howled in sympathy.

when he was able to sit up they bound his head, which was severely cut, dressed him, after a fashion, and hurried him in the skiff to town, ned, as was fitting, happily nestling beside him, and the scull-boat desperately following in their wake.

a doctor sewed up tom’s scalp, and it is a question who was the prouder—the boys of ned, or tom of his ten stitches.

as for ned, himself—he was not proud, precisely; rather, he was thankful and satisfied.

the only thing that occurred to mar his pleasure was the action of zulette—called zu-zu—tom’s little sister. she found him sitting by tom’s chair, that evening, on the pearce front porch; and with an “oh, ned! aren’t you brave!” she ran up to him, and left on his face two tears and a kiss. then she ran into the house, crying as hard as she could cry.

ned wiped his cheek, and wished that she wouldn’t behave so silly. to be kissed by a girl—that was too much! and why was she crying, when tom was safe!

after the merits of the various theories had been well argued, it was generally accepted that tom had received his cut by striking a sunken pile. however, no one went down into the water to see. the accident put an end to diving off the breakwater.