Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers

  THE BOY WITH THE U. S. LIFE-SAVERS

  CHAPTER I

  A RESCUE BY MOONLIGHT

  "Help! Help!"

  The cry rang out despairingly over the almost-deserted beach at GoldenGate Park.

  Jumping up so suddenly that the checker-board went in one direction, thetable in another, while the checkers rolled to every corner of thelittle volunteer life-saving station house, Eric Swift made a leap forthe door. Quick as he was to reach the boat, he was none too soon, forthe coxswain and two other men were tumbling over the gunwale at thesame time.

  Before the echoes of the cry had ceased, the boat was through the surfand was heading out to sea like an arrow shot from a Sioux war-bow.

  Although this was the second summer that Eric had been with theVolunteers, it had never chanced to him before to be called out on arescue at night. The sensation was eerie in the extreme. The night wasstill, with a tang of approaching autumn in the air to set the nervesa-tingle. Straight in the golden path of moonlight the boat sped. Thesnap that comes from exerting every muscle to the full quickened theboy's eagerness and the tense excitement made everything seem unreal.

  The coxswain, with an intuition which was his peculiar gift, steered anundeviating course. Some of the life-savers used to joke with him anddeclare that he could smell a drowning man a mile away, for his instinctwas almost always right.

  For once, Eric thought, the coxswain must have been at fault, fornothing was visible, when, after a burst of speed which seemed to lastminutes--though in reality it was but seconds--the coxswain held up hishand. The men stopped rowing.

  The boy had slipped off his shoes while still at his oar, working offfirst one shoe and then the other with his foot. It was so late in theevening that not a single man in the crew was in the regulationbathing-suit, all were more or less dressed. Eric's chum, a chapnicknamed the "Eel" because of his curious way of swimming, with onemotion slipped off all his clothing and passed from his thwart to thebow of the boat.

  A ripple showed on the surface of the water. Eric could not have told itfrom the roughness of a breaking wave, but before ever the outlines of arising head were seen, the Eel sprang into the sea. Two of those long,sinuous strokes of his brought him almost within reach of the drowningman. Blindly the half-strangled sufferer threw up his arms, the actionsending him under water again, a gurgled "Help!" being heard by those inthe boat as he went down.

  The Eel dived.

  Eric, who had followed his chum headforemost into the water hardly halfa second later, swam around waiting for the other to come up. In threequarters of a minute the Eel rose to the surface with his living burden.Suddenly, with a twist, almost entirely unconscious, the drowning mangrappled his rescuer. Eric knew that his chum was an adept at all thevarious ways of "breaking away" from these grips, a necessary part ofthe training of every life-saver, but he swam close up in case he mightbe able to help.

  "Got him all right?" he asked.

  "He's got me!" grunted the Eel, disgustedly.

  "P'raps I'd better give you a hand to break," suggested the boy,reaching over with the intention of helping his friend, for thestruggling swimmer had secured a tight grip around the Eel's neck. Thelife-saver, however, covering the nose and mouth of the half-drowned manwith one hand, pulled him close with the other and punched himvigorously in the wind with his knee.

  "Now he'll be good," said the Eel, grinning as well as he could with amouth full of water. He spat out the brine, shook the water out of hiseyes, and putting his hands on either side of the drowning man's head,started for the shore. Using a powerful "scissors" stroke, the Eel madequick time, though he seemed to be taking it in leisurely fashion. Eric,although a good swimmer, had all he could do to keep up.

  "How do you think he is?" the lad asked.

  "Oh, he'll come around all right," the Eel replied, "I don't believehe's swallowed such an awful lot of water. I guess he's been able toswim a bit."

  The rescued man was a good weight and not fat, so that he floated deep.The sea was choppy, too, with a nasty little surf on the beach. But theEel brought the sufferer in with the utmost ease.

  As soon as they reached shore, Eric grabbed the drowning man's feetwhile the Eel took him by the shoulders and lifted him on a stretcherwhich two other members of the Volunteer Corps had brought. As soon asthe rescued man was placed on this, the bearers started at a quick pacefor the life-saving station, and artificial respiration was begun.

  In spite of the fact that the boy had seen dozens of half-drownedpersons brought back to consciousness, the process never lost to him itshalf-terrible fascination. He always felt the lurking danger and he hadbeen well-trained never to forget how much hung in the balance. Alwaysit was a human life, flickering like a candle-flame in a gusty wind.Always the outcome was unknown.

  Once Eric had worked for a solid hour over a man who had been brought infrom the beach before he had been rewarded by any sign of life. TheU. S. Volunteer Corps had drilled into him very thoroughly the knowledgethat tireless patience and grim persistence will almost work miracles.Accordingly, when it came his turn, he joined readily in the work ofrestoration. The swim had tired him a little, and he was glad to quitwhen another member of the station took his place over the half-drownedman's body.

  "Why do we use the Schaefer method, Doctor?" Eric asked.

  "It's the best system for our work," was the reply, "because it can bedone by one person. Quite often, a fellow may make a rescue and bringsome one to shore, so that he will have to work alone. You're not goingto be right at a station always."

  "That's true," the boy said meditatively.

  "Watch, now," continued the doctor, pointing to the life-saver, who wasat work and who was kneeling astride the prone figure of the unconsciousman. "You see Johnson's hands are pressing right between the short ribs,aren't they?"

  "Yes, that's the base of the lungs, isn't it?" Eric queried.

  "It is," the doctor answered. "Now when a man brings down the weight ofthe upper part of his body on his hands--the way Johnson is doingthere--it means that about one hundred pounds of pressure is applied tothose lungs, doesn't it?"

  "Sure; fifty pounds on each lung," agreed the boy.

  "You can see how that forces out nearly every bit of air in the lungs.Then, as soon as he leans backwards again, and takes off the pressure,the air rushes in to fill the lungs. That makes artificial breathing,doesn't it?"

  "Of course."

  "That's the whole secret of restoration; that, and keeping everlastinglyat it."

  "But if the Schaefer method is the best way," protested Eric, "I don'tsee why everybody doesn't use it."

  "Such as--"

  "Well, the Life-Saving end of the Coast Guard doesn't!"

  "I don't say the Schaefer is the only good method," answered the doctor;"nothing of the kind. It's the one that suits us best." He stepped overto the prostrate man, never relaxing his vigilant watch for the firstsign of life. Then, returning to Eric, he continued, "The Coast Guarduses the Sylvester method, doesn't it?"

  "One of the forms of it, Father told me," the boy answered. "He showedme how. It's quite different from what we do here."

  "How did he show you?" asked the doctor interestedly; "there are so manydifferent ways."

  "Father told me to stand or kneel at the head of the chap who had beenrescued, then, grabbing hold of the arms above the elbows, to draw themup over the head, keep them there a couple of seconds, then force themdown and press them against the sides of the chest. I suppose theprinciple is about the same."

  "Exactly the same," the doctor said, "but of course every one has hispreference. I like the Schaefer method best, myself, because in it thetongue hangs out and the water runs from the mouth naturally, while inthe Sylvester method, the tongue has to be tied."

  "But which is the better?" persisted Eric.

  "There really doesn't seem to be much difference in the result," was thereply, "it's the man behind the gun, not the system. The Coast Guard sofar holds the
record for the most wonderful cases of recovery and theirsis the older method. The important thing is to know exactly what you'redoing, and to do it with everlasting perseverance. Never give up! I'veseen some wonderful examples of fellows just snatched back to life longafter we thought they had gone. There was one, I remember--"

  "Doctor!" called Johnson, "I think he's coming to!"

  The rescued man gave a gasp and his eyelids fluttered. The doctor wasbeside him in an instant, but instead of seeming satisfied by hisexamination he shook his head doubtfully as he rose from the side of hispatient.

  "Going all right?" queried Eric.

  "No," was the answer, "he's not. I think he's got smokers' heart. You'dbetter watch him a bit closely, boys! One can't ever tell in thesecases."

  "You mean he's not out of the woods yet, Doctor?" the lad asked.

  "Not by a long shot," was the reply. "You can't play any monkey-shineswith the heart. Judging by the shape that fellow's heart is in, I shouldbe inclined to say he's been smoking for nearly ten years, smokingpretty heavily, too. And he can't be a day over twenty-three!"

  "Do you suppose that had anything to do with his drowning?"

  "Of course it had," the doctor answered. "Swimming is a real athleticexercise and you've got to keep in shape to swim well. What's more,you've got to have a decent heart to start with. But if a youngsterpiles into cigarettes, it's a safe bet that he's going to cripplehimself for athletics in manhood."

  "But you smoke, Doctor!"

  "Sure I do," the other rejoined. "And I swim, pretty nearly as well asany of you young fellows. But I didn't start any cigarette business whenI was a kid, the way lots of boys do now. It wasn't until I was incollege that I smoked my first pipe."

  "Then you think it's all right for a chap to smoke after he's grown up?"

  "I wouldn't go as far as to say that," the doctor said, "but there's nodoubt that the cases which have turned out worst are those in which thehabit began early. Nature's a wise old scout, Eric, and you're apt tofind that a man who's likely to be hurt by smoking won't develop acraving for it unless he started too young, or unless he forced himselfto excess."

  The boy wanted to question the doctor further, for he was thoroughlyinterested in finding out that smoking prevents an athletic manhood,when the speaker was interrupted by a cry from the half-conscious man.

  "Jake!" he called.

  The doctor was beside him in a second.

  "What is it, son?" he said, bending his head down so that his grizzledmustache almost brushed the man's face.

  THE LIGHT THAT NEVER SLEEPS.

  A powerful automatic beacon on Richardson's Rock, Cal., that burns halfa year without attention.

  Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

  "Jake! Where's Jake?"

  A sudden silence swept over the station. Only the Eel moved. With thatqueer sliding step of his that was almost noiseless, he went to the doorof the little house that faced the sea.

  "Jake!" again the cry came. "Where's Jake?"

  The man was relapsing into unconsciousness when the doctor quickly tooka powerful restorative from his medicine-bag, which lay beside the cot,and held it to the man's nose. The fumes roused him.

  "Where did you leave him?" queried the doctor.

  "I--I couldn't get him," gasped the rescued man, breathing heavily.

  There was a general rustle and every man half-turned to the door. In thesilence a man's boot, being kicked off, clattered noisily on the floor.

  "How do you mean you couldn't get him?" the doctor persisted. "Was heswimming with you?"

  "He went down--sudden--" came the answer, weakly, "and when I tried ...to help ... he pulled at my legs."

  The words were hardly out of his lips before the station-house wasempty save for the doctor and the rescued swimmer. As the door slid backbehind them, Eric heard the man cry in a quavering voice,

  "I've drowned him! I've drowned him! I had to kick him free to savemyself!"

  Outside, not a word was said. The men knew their work and their places.The coxswains were ready and the three white boats were sliding down thebeach, the big boat down the runway, as the men heard that cry again,

  "I've drowned him! I've drowned him. I had to kick him free to savemyself!"

  The words rang hauntingly in Eric's ears as his boat hit the firstincoming billow. The former rescue in the moonlight had held a quickthrill, but it had been nothing like this tense eager race in thedarkness. Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in the station-housebefore the rescued man had recovered consciousness and the rescue hadtaken at least five minutes. Almost twenty-five minutes had elapsed,then, since the first cry of help had been heard.

  The boats leapt forward like swift dogs released from leash. The oarswere made to resist extreme strain, but they bent under the terrificstrokes of the life-savers. Over six thousand miles of sea the Pacificrolled in with slow surges, and out in the darkness, somewhere, was adrowning man, probably beyond help, but with just the faintest shred ofpossibility for life if he could be found immediately.

  With that uncanny intuition which made him so marvelous in the work, thecoxswain of Eric's boat steered a course fifty feet away from that ofthe larger boat.

  Not a word was spoken until, above the swish of the water and the rattleof the rowlocks, the Eel said quietly,

  "We picked him up a little to wind'ard of here!" Three men, among themEric, slipped into the water. Almost at the same moment, five or six menplunged in from the other boats. The lieutenant stopped Eric's chum.

  "You'd better stay aboard, Eel," he said; "you've already had quite aswim."

  The Eel shrugged his shoulders disapprovingly, but, after all, orderswere orders, and the captain of the Golden Gate station was adisciplinarian to his finger-tips.

  In the broken gleams of the moonlight flickering on the tumbled water,the forms of the dozen members of the corps could be seen. Ever andagain one would disappear from sight for a deep dive to try to find thebody.

  This was a part of the work in which Eric was particularly good. He hada strong leg-stroke and was compactly built, although large-boned forhis age. Tired though he was from swimming ashore with the Eel on thefirst rescue, he went down as often as any of his comrades. Looking backat the boat, he saw the Eel wave his hand in a direction a little southof where he had dived before.

  Following out the suggestion, Eric took a long breath and went down. Itwas a deep dive, and he thought he saw a gleam of white below him. Theboy tried to swim down a foot or two farther, but his breath failed him,and he shot up, gasping, to the surface. Not wanting to give a falsealarm, yet knowing well that every second counted, the boy merely stayedlong enough to get his breath, then, putting every ounce of power hepossessed into a supreme effort, he went down again. This time he got afoot nearer, but not near enough to be quite sure. Again he darted up tothe surface.

  "Here, fellows!" he shouted.

  The boat shot up beside him.

  "Found him, Eric?"

  "I think so, sir," the boy answered, "but he was too far down for me."

  The Eel had stripped. He stood up and looked pleadingly at thelieutenant.

  "Sure you're not tired?"

  The Eel smiled.

  "Overboard with you, then!"

  He dived.

  Dozens of times though Eric had seen the Eel dive, and often as he hadtried to imitate him, the boy never ceased to envy his comrade hisextraordinary power of going into the water without the slightestsplash. Powerful dive though it was, scarcely a drop of water seemed tobe displaced as the Eel went down.

  During the few seconds that passed while these sentences were beinginterchanged, three or four others of the life-savers had rallied toEric's call and were headed for the boat. One man, especially, a big,burly fellow who looked as though he would be too heavy to swim, but whopossessed an astounding amount of endurance and who could hold hisbreath longer than any one else in the station, followed the Eel to thebottom. Eric was game, and although he w
as beginning to feel thoroughlydone up, he joined the quest in the depths of the sea.

  Moonlight gives no reflections beneath the water, and the sea was dark.The Eel was already out of sight below him, but as the boy made his waydown, the powerful figure of the heavy swimmer came past him like ashadow.

  A few seconds later, the Eel shot up by him, bringing an unconscious manin his grasp. The other swimmer followed. By the time Eric reached theboat he was exhausted and had to be helped in. The rescued man had beenlifted into the large boat, and before the boy was even aboard, theother craft was half-way to the shore, racing like mad. The other boatsfollowed.

  As soon as the surf-boat touched the beach, the big man jumped out, twoother members of the corps threw the unconscious figure across hisshoulders for the "fireman's carry," and while the keel of the boat wasstill grinding on the beach, the rescued man was well on the way towardthe house.

  The doctor was waiting. The victim of the drowning accident, apparentlydead, was put into hot blankets. His arms and legs were stiff. The lipswere quite blue and the whole of the face discolored. At the sight ofhim, and the little slimy ooze from his lips, the doctor looked grave.The big life-saver who had carried the sufferer in was already at workin an attempt at resuscitation.

  A moment or two later, the first man who had been rescued and who wasfeeling a little stronger, turned over on the stretcher. He saw theswollen and discolored face of his friend and sent up a piercing cry,

  "He's dead!"

  Then, after a pause and a silence broken only by the rhythmic beat ofthe regular motions of the process of causing artificial respiration,came the cry again,

  "I've drowned him! I've drowned him! I had to kick him free to savemyself!"

  Although the house was kept empty save for the four men, the doctorbeckoned to one of the officers standing outside--so that there shouldbe as much air as possible in the station--to come in and try to quietthe frenzied man.

  "Bromides, Doctor?" queried the lieutenant, who had come in.

  "Yes. Give him just one of the triple. No, that won't hurt him," hecontinued in answer to a look; "it's excessive stimulation that a manwith smokers' heart can't stand."

  The life-saver gave the required dose and succeeded in soothing the poorfellow, who was still terribly weak. The men sat on the steps outside,talking in low tones. Every one of them was keenly conscious of thestrain. For twenty minutes there was no sound from within the stationexcept the hard breathing of the man who was putting in all his strengthto give the recumbent figure the motions of respiration.

  "Ryan!" the doctor called suddenly.

  A strapping young fellow jumped up like a shot and darted into thestation to take the place of the exhausted worker. Wiping his foreheadand breathing hard, the latter came out to his companions.

  "Do you think there's any change, Jim?" one of them asked.

  "Not so far as I can see," the other answered, shaking his head.

  "How long do you suppose he was under?" queried another.

  Close comparison of watches gave the actual time as between nineteen andtwenty-one minutes.

  "Has any one ever been saved who has been under water as long as that?"asked Eric.

  "Eighteen minutes is the longest I've ever seen," answered Johnson, theveteran of the corps, "but, of course, there's the Mooney case."

  The boy listened a moment, but no sound came from the station. It wasless nerve-racking to talk than to listen, so he went on,

  "What was the Mooney case?"

  "That was a Coast Guard job, in the days when the United StatesLife-Saving Service was a separate bureau. It was quite a queer case ina good many ways."

  "How long was Mooney under water? Half an hour, wasn't it?" questionedanother of the men.

  "Thirty-one minutes, according to general reports," Johnson replied,"but to make sure that they weren't stretching it, the official reportmade it 'twenty minutes or over.' One of my pals worked on the man."

  "How was it?" queried Eric. "In a storm?"

  "Beautiful sunny Fourth of July," was the reply. "And, what's more, itwas in shallow water, near shore, and the man could swim!"

  "But how in the world--"

  "That's exactly what I'm telling," Johnson continued, resenting theinterruption. "It was during a boat race on Point Judith Pond in RhodeIsland. My pal, who was a surfman, had been assigned to duty there.Naturally, he was watching the races. On the other side of the pond asmall flat-bottomed skiff, carrying one sail, capsized. There were threemen in her. Streeter, that's the fellow I know, saw the boat capsize,but he knew that the water was shallow and noted that it was near shore.Just the same, he kept an eye on the boat. As soon as he saw two menclinging to the sides of the skiff, he started for the scene of theaccident. He was about a third of a mile away.

  "What had happened was this. When the boat capsized, the swinging boomstruck Mooney on the head, making him unconscious. He was swept underthe sail and pinned down by it. The other two men, neither of whom couldswim, managed to scramble on to the capsized skiff. They saw no sign ofMooney, and knowing that he was a swimmer, thought he had struck out forthe shore. It wasn't until several minutes later that it occurred to oneof them that their comrade might be pinned under the sail.

  "With a good deal of personal risk, for his hold was insecure and hecouldn't swim, this chap managed to get hold of the canvas andsomehow--he said he didn't know how, himself--succeeded in gettingMooney out from under the sail. He gripped Mooney's collar, but couldnot lift his head above water. All that he could do was barely to holdon."

  THE LONELY WATCHER OF THE COAST.

  Courtesy of Outing Magazine.]

  WHERE PATROLS MEET. THE HALF-WAY POINT.

  Courtesy of Outing Magazine.]

  "Showed a good deal of grit to do even that, it seems to me," said oneof the life-savers. "It's an awful feeling to be nearly drowned."

  "It did show grit," agreed Johnson. "If it had been a drowning womanwith long hair, she could have been held up all right; but a grip on thecollar, when the head is hanging forward, means a dead lift out ofwater. I don't wonder that the young fellow wasn't able to do it.

  "When my pal reached there, he got Mooney aboard, the other twoclambered in and they started for the shore. Mooney was as purple as agrape and his arms were so stiff that two men, one on each side, couldbarely move them. Nearly a quart of water was got out of him, and theyhad an awful job prying open his jaws.

  "They worked over him for an hour and twenty minutes before there wasthe slightest sign of life. Not until twenty-five minutes more did theheart begin, and Mooney did not regain consciousness until nine hourslater. As his watch had stopped at 4:20 P.M. and it was 4:53 whenStreeter got ashore, that man's heart had stopped, his breathing hadstopped and he had been practically dead for more than two hours."

  "Just goes to show," said one of the others, "that it isn't merelyswallowing water that drowns a fellow."

  "It isn't swallowing water at all, as I understand," rejoined anothermember of the group. "Drowning's a kind of poisoning of the bloodbecause the lungs can't get oxygen. It's just like choking to death orbeing hanged."

  There was a call from within.

  "Murchison!"

  The life-saver who had just been speaking, got up quickly and went in torelieve Ryan.

  "Any luck?" Johnson asked, as the latter came out.

  The Irishman shook his head.

  "There's nothin' yet, but he moight come round anny minute," was hisreply, with the invincible optimism of his race.

  Eric had been thinking of Murchison's description of drowning.

  "Why did they roll half-drowned people on a barrel in the old times?" heasked.

  "Sure, they were ijits," Ryan answered cheerfully.

  "But what was the idea? To get the water out?"

  "Just that. They used to think the lungs were a tank."

  "Murchison was saying that people drowned because they couldn't getoxygen. Isn't there oxygen in water?"

/>   "Av coorse there is," the Irishman replied. "But ye've got to have thegills of a fish to use it. Annyhow, a man's got warm blood an' a fishhas cold. It takes a lot of oxygen to get a man's blood warm. An' if hedoesn't get it, he dies.

  "Ye see, Eric," he continued, "that's why ye've got to go on workin'over a drowned man. Ye can't tell how badly he's poisoned. An' it'shonest I am in tellin' ye that I think we've got a chance in there."

  "You do?"

  "I do that," was the cheery answer. "There's no tellin'."

  Again came that cry from the station, a cry whose very repetition madeit all the more nerve-racking,

  "I've drowned him! I've drowned him! I had to kick him free to savemyself!"

  Eric shivered. There was something gruesome in the monotony of the samewords over and over again. The noises on the beach died down. Several ofthe men, who did not live at the station-house, went to their cottages.The boy gave a jump when he heard a step behind him and saw the olddoctor standing there.

  The night was very still. Nothing could be heard but the roar of thesurf on the beach. Eric, who was imaginative, thought that the surfseemed to be triumphing in having snatched another life. Feeling surethat the doctor would understand him, the boy turned and said,

  "Doctor, shall we be able to beat out the sea?"

  The Highland imagination of the doctor instantly caught the lad'smeaning.

  "You've heard it, too!" he said. "Many and many's the time I've thoughtthe sea was skreeling in triumph when a drowned man was brought ashore.But I've snatched a many back."

  "Will you--" began the boy.

  "Doctor!" came a cry from within.

  "Well?" he answered eagerly, stepping to the door.

  "I thought I caught a breath!"

  The doctor's keen eyes glinted as he knelt beside the prostrate figure.

  Nine, ten, eleven times the weight of the life-saver was brought forwardand released. At the twelfth, there was a slight respiration.

  "Did you see, Doctor?" he cried, pausing in his work.

  "What the mischief are you stopping for?" was the doctor's impatientanswer. Then he added, "You're doing splendidly, Murchison; just keep itup!"

  Five more minutes passed without a single sign. Both men had begun tofeel that possibly they had been mistaken, when there was a definiteflutter of an eyelid. The surfman would have given a triumphant shoutbut for the doctor's rebuke a moment or two before.

  Quietly the old Scotchman began to promote circulation by rubbing thelegs upward, so as to drive the venous blood to the heart and thus tryto start its action. Almost ten minutes elapsed before the doctor'spatience was rewarded with the faint throb of a heart-beat, thenanother. It was soft and irregular at first, but gradually the bloodbegan to move through the arteries and in a few minutes a pulse could befelt. The lips lost a little of their blue color and breathing began.

  "He's got a grand heart!" said the old doctor, ten minutes later, as thepulse-beats began to come with regularity. "I hardly believed that wecould bring him round. It's a good thing it was this chap and not theother. We could never have saved yon man if he had been half as longsubmerged."

  "You really think that we shall save him?" queried Eric, more to hearthe doctor's assurance than because of any doubt of the result.

  "We have saved him," was the reply. "In a day or two he'll be as well ashe ever was. And, to my thinking, he'll be wiser than he was before, forhe'll never do such a silly thing as to go out for a swim at night-timeafter dinner with--well, after a heavy dinner."

  "Seems too bad that we can't tell his friend," the boy suggested. "It'sjust awful to hear him accusing himself all through the night."

  "If he's asleep," the doctor answered, "that's better for him thananything else. Oh, I don't know," he continued, "he seems to bestirring. Do you want to tell him?"

  Eric flashed a grateful glance at the doctor.

  "If I might?"

  "Go ahead!"

  "Mr. Willett," said the boy, coming close to the stretcher. "Mr.Willett!"

  "Well?" said the rescued man, waking out of a remorse-haunted dream.

  "Jake has been saved. He's all right."

  In spite of his exhaustion and his sudden awakening from sleep, thefirst man who had been rescued sat up on the stretcher and craned hishead forward to see his friend. In spite of the sufferer's bruised andswollen appearance, it was evident to the most inexperienced eye thatlife was not extinct. The convalescent looked at the doctor and tried tofind words, but something in his throat choked him.

  He reached out and grasped the boy's hand, holding it tightly. Then,looking around the station, he said softly,

  "A man's world is a good world to live in!"