SHE came up again gasping, choking, aware of the shouts and the noise, of the struggling figures and dropping objects; aware that she was only one more in the way and might better have stayed where she was; then struck out feebly; but something fell upon her head, something soft like a pillow perhaps, but enough to put her under water again, and she felt that this was the end.

When she could get her breath again a strong arm was pulling her away from the crowd and noise. There were things in the way, people and heavy objects, but she was being steered through them all, out of the labyrinth of horror and into dark, still waters.

There followed a long stretch of toiling through the water, which seemed like ages, when her breath came in gasps, and her heart seemed pounding her very life away as she ploughed through the blackness, making a brave effort to keep up with the strong, steady strokes beside her, though scarcely aware of what she was doing. Life seemed going from her ebb by ebb and it was not worth while to try to hold on to it any longer, and yet the memory of her mother's fears kept her trying. After that she kept on, unconscious of anything save that she must keep going, she must, she must -- till finally even that dim impulse flickered out and the water flowed about her very soul; softly, dreamily, possessingly. Yet still she was drawn on and on through the blackness to a distant shore.

He dragged her up on the bank at last, the man who had saved her out of the chaos of peril and brought her with him at the expense of his own almost exhausted strength. He was gasping and all but finished, himself, when he dropped beside her among the tall reeds that served to shelter them from the night, and for a few moments they lay quiet, passive; the girl unconscious, the man panting for breath and unable as yet to think what to do next; two stranger souls in common peril, knowing naught of each other or of what was before them.

In a moment, however, the chill of the night roused the man, and he shivered and sat up. Whoever it was that he had saved -- a woman -- her long hair and trammeling garments had already told him that -- she would die if she lay long in that condition. What could he do?

He shivered again and got up. He shook the water from himself. His splendid strength reasserted itself, and his breath was steady now. He was surprised that even a swim like that, encumbered as he was with heavy clothing and shoes, and bearing another helpless creature, should have knocked him out so completely. Then he reflected that he had lost much sleep during the past few days; still, that was not enough to make him feel so worthless. He shook himself again and stretched his muscles, as he used to do on the football field in his nearby boyhood days, after a knockout, when he heard the call back into the game. If ever there was a call to come back into the game it was now, for this woman would die if he did not do something at once.

The night was wild and chill. Across the river, farther away than he dreamed they had come, the sky was lurid with the fire that flared grotesquely against the darkness. The current must have carried them downstream as they crossed. He had thought to go back and help save others so soon as he had this one safe, but the way was far and this woman was apparently helpless, perhaps unconscious, or at least exhausted. If she lay here in her wet garments she would die from the cold. He must get her to her feet and keep her warm somehow.

Stooping, he lifted her light weight and bore her farther up the bank into the woods, then laid her down on the ground and knelt to listen to her heart. It was beating weakly. If only he had fire or stimulant both! Perhaps there was a house somewhere near. He would carry her a little way and see. So he picked her up again, holding her close to keep her warm, and struggled on through the thick undergrowth in the darkness.

That night was an experience to be remembered through a lifetime. The young strength of the man seemed to revive with the necessity, and he carried the woman a long distance before, with the warmth of his body and the motion of the going, the girl came to her senses and was able to walk for herself.

For the first instant of her waking to consciousness her soul seemed to stand still with horror. Where was she and who was carrying her? What would happen to her? Would she ever see her home and friends again? The questions rushed madly through her mind and almost paralyzed her thoughts for an instant. Then memory reasserted itself. All the facts of the disaster as she had seen them, came back. She knew that whoever was carrying her must have saved her out of kindness. She knew that he must have had to swim alone during at least a part of the way through the water, for she could distinctly remember, now, the horror of being unable to keep up any longer. Then there was something else, a kindly, strong, impersonal clasp that made her unafraid. After a minute she signified her ability to walk, and he set her down at once, yet held her arm and put his own about her for support.

"If you can walk it will keep you warm," he said briefly; and with no apology for his arm about her he hurried her on. It was all she could do to keep up with his pace, and when her feet faltered he seemed to almost lift her from the ground as he still strode on.

"We must keep going," he said again, as if he had no more breath to waste in words. On and on they went, but still they did not come to any human habitation. Finally, when he saw that she could go no further, and that she needed rest, he made her sit down in a sheltered place behind some trees. Later, when she was almost asleep, she knew her head was resting against his shoulder. Once in the night she awoke and saw a fire blazing near her, and realized that a man's coat was spread over her and she was warm and comparatively dry. There was no one in sight, but she heard a step not far away and the crackling of breaking branches. She did not wonder how the fire came. She slept again.

It was in the early dawn that she awoke sharply as if she had been called, and stretching her stiff limbs looked wildly about her, startlingly aware of the night that had passed and her strange isolation with an unknown man.

He lay upon the ground at the other side of the fire which had been piled high with wood and was burning beautifully, his strong fine figure stretched wearily at full length, the brown curly hair tumbled back from his bronzed face, which in spite of its soil and grime showed a manly beauty. The utter weariness and relaxation of his body made him seem like a boy.

The girl looked and wondered, and turned away to remember. He must have had to swim with her quite a distance, and drag her to land after she ceased to help herself. Also he must have carried her a long journey. He had upheld her when she walked beside him, and had sat against a tree and made her lean against him part of the time while she slept. Then how did he get that fire? Some mystery known to woodcraft no doubt. She glanced at herself with the thick brown coat tucked carefully about her still. She touched it softly, almost reverently with her finger-tips. It was dry! He had contrived to dry it and put it about her!

She looked over at the man again. He wore brown flannel shirt and heavy trousers like the coat. He must have been cold himself without his coat while she slept in comfort. And he had stayed awake at night to keep the fire going to dry her things and keep her warm!

There were tears in her eyes as her glance lingered on the boyish face. She pictured writing to her mother what he was like, this strong man like an angel who had saved her. Then she shuddered at the thought of the wreck and all she had gone through. What would have been her fate if he had not put his arm beneath her when she was sinking?

Presently, as the dawn crept higher up the sky and lit the world with rose and golden light, she stole shyly from her couch under the tree and, stepping softly, came to where he was and tucked the coat carefully about him, as he lay, one cheek pillowed on his arm. Her hand brushed lightly against his hair, and she marveled at its softness -- like a baby's. His skin, too, had that clear ruddy glow of perfect health, even beneath the grime of the night. She looked down on him with wonder and a great gratitude that seemed to almost overwhelm her. Perhaps all people felt so toward men who had saved their lives; but Jean Grayson had never before seen a man who seemed one-half so strong and great and good as this mere boy looked to her now in the early light of morning, asleep upon the ground and soundly unaware of her tender ministration.

She slipped away quietly without wakening him, and stood a moment looking about her upon the strange unknown world, wondering where she was. What State was this? She could not even be sure of that. Then she looked down at herself.

She wore the long black Pullman robe of soft silk, sadly draggled now and torn in two or three places. How beautiful and fine it had been but a few short hours before! And her other pretty clothes that had been bought and made so carefully at the cost of such family sacrifice? Were they all gone? Would her trunk burn up? Or had it gone on ahead of her when she had stopped to visit her friends and so escaped destruction? But she dismissed the thought as unworthy of one who had but just escaped with her life. What were clothes beside life? But how was she to go on with her journey looking like this ? Her pretty traveling gown! She felt a pang for that. Well, she must do the best she could.

Her hair was the worst of all, but she could put that right. Her precious handbag! She put her hand to her breast to be sure it was there safe. Yes, it was still fastened to her clothing, though the pin had torn away and there was but a small hold of the cloth still in it. She pulled it out and examined it, seated behind a tree away from the fire and the sleeping man. Yes, the bag was safe, and its contents, but its beauty was gone, for the thin leather finish was blistered and peeling from the inner lining. The things inside were all there, even the strange man's leather case, wrapped in a wet pulp of paper. She took the paper off and threw it from her; then realizing how few worldly goods she was now possessed of, she reached and spread the paper out to dry. It would be needed, of course.

Her small store of money was safe, and her bits of pins and watch, the little timepiece ticking bravely on as if it were alive and trying to be cheerful under adverse circumstances.

Jean took out her combs and hair pins which she had stowed in the pocket of her handbag that they might be easily found in the morning, and felt rich indeed to have them. They would assist very materially in her toilet.

With the aid of the combs she presently had her hair soft and shining in its accustomed coils and fluffy masses, for fortunately for her appearance that morning, her hair was of the kind that tries to curl in spite of floods and winds, and it fluffed its prettiest with the first rays of the sun glinting over it.

The handbag held, among other things, a needle and both black and white thread. With their aid Jean mended the rents in her robe, and managed to make herself look quite like a maiden of the present day. Then wrapping the damp paper again about the displeasing leather case she bestowed it with a shrug of dislike, in the disfigured bag once more and started forth in search of water to wash off the stains of the night.

Her hands were badly scratched and one had been bleeding. She remembered the glass and wondered now how she had escaped with as few scratches as she had.

But water she could not find within sight of the fire and she dared not go further lest she get lost. She found, however, a dense growth of bushes bearing great luscious berries, and though they were not exactly like any berries with which she was familiar she decided that they were probably edible, and gathered her hands full. Then, coming softly back near the fire, she looked around for a suitable place for the breakfast table. The sleeper had not awakened. She went about cautiously and found a great flat rock quite near where he lay that would do beautifully. Here she laid her berries on a dish of green leaves, with their points all radiating from the center and two large leaves, one on each side, for plates.

Then remembering something, she opened her handbag again.

The day before, when her cousins had been taking her sightseeing, they had treated her to ice cream soda, with which had been served a tiny envelope of wax paper containing three small wafer crackers. She had put hers in the bag, laughingly declaring that she would eat them on the train when she was hungry, and one cousin had added her envelope as well. She had not thought of them when she opened it before, but now she hurried to bring them forth. Of course they would be spoiled! But no -- the envelopes were still about them, and though somewhat damp they had retained their shape and looked exceedingly good to a hungry mortal.

Eagerly she set them forth, three on each leaf-plate, and hurried back to the bush to get more berries. Either the soft stepping feet as they went lightly through the grass, or the falling of a stick into the ashes of the fire disturbed the sleeper, for he awoke suddenly and looked about him.

The girl was gone! That was his first thought.

The look of boyishness fell away from him in a flash, and he rose to his feet and gazed about him anxiously, alertly, as if he feared danger near. Then his eyes fell on the flat rock with its mimic banquet spread forth! A flood of wonder and delight swept into his face and a great tenderness, such as no one of his friends or foes ever dreamed would be hid away anywhere in his nature. He had never played dolls on a rock with some little girl, and moss and acorns for carpet and dishes, but the " playhouse" spirit was there in his heart and leaped at once into consciousness. A table for two! The woman had provided a meal even in the wilderness!

He had been turning about in his mind how he was to get something to eat with neither powder nor hook, and here she had been quicker than he and breakfast a was all prepared!

Something stirred in Jasper Holt's heart that he had not known was there, a longing for companionship in his life and home; the table set for two and someone to care! He had never felt its need before and he did not call it by that name now -- he merely experienced a strangely beautiful thrill at the new possibilities that life suddenly revealed to him; something higher and better and infinitely sweeter than any of the ambitions and ideals he had hitherto entertained.

He was still standing, gazing in wonder at the table, when the quick crackling of a twig made known her return.