The Story of Paul Boyton | Page 7

the water's temperature. "In two
weeks," he thought with rapture, "In two weeks I can take a plunge."
In less than two weeks he enjoyed this plunge and finally remembering
that he had to be at home by four o'clock, he scrambled onto a raft and
discovered that his body was covered with some unknown, greasy,
tar-like substance. He could not get it off, and at last asked a raftsman,
who stood by, what it was:
"Why, son," answered the lumberman; "That is petroleum. Don't you
know that they struck oil at the head of the river and great quantities are
pouring into the Alleghany above. It will be a long time before the river
will be as clear as she used to be, and you, my little man, will have a
nice job getting that off your skin."
When Paul reached home, his mother's scrutiny revealed the fact that
something was wrong.
"Have you been swimming again, despite your promise?"
Paul murmured something that might be either "yes" or "no." His hat
removed, showed his hair quite damp further investigation revealed the
fact that his shirt was on wrong side out, while round his neck was a
well defined dark line from the oil cakes he struck while swimming
against the stream. His sister Teresa revenged herself that evening for
many a raid on her dolls by scrubbing him into the appearance of a
boiled lobster, so that he would be neat and presentable for school next
day. Even this lesson did not teach him. One warm day while on his
way to school, he lingered so long on the bridge that the tower clock
struck ten, and then he argued that it would be useless to go until the
afternoon session, when he could easily hoodwink his teacher with an
excuse. But the afternoon came, and the wild boy was still in the water,
too deeply interested in the navigation of a plank to realize that he was
playing "hookey" and risking its shady consequences. About two

o'clock he heard loud cries from the St. Clair Street bridge. Looking up,
he saw an excited crowd gathering. The object of their excitement was
a little boy who had waded out on a shallow bar above the bridge until
he had stumbled into deep water and was being carried away by the
strong current. Paul caught one glimpse of him as he disappeared and
springing from his plank he swam out with a strong, steady stroke to
his assistance. The crowd on the bridge shouted loud cries of
encouragement. As Paul reached the spot where the body went down,
he could find no traces of him. A man on the bridge shouted:
"A little farther down! A little farther down! I can see him at the
bottom."
Paul swam in the direction indicated and at the cry, "there, there," dove
to the bottom like a seal. He came directly on the body which was
doubled up against a large boulder. He grasped it by the arm and rose
with it to the surface. Loud ringing cheers from the crowd above,
encouraged him. He swam with one arm, supporting the body with the
other. They were being rapidly carried away down the stream, when a
boat which had been sent out, reached the almost exhausted boy. Paul
and the unconscious boy were taken ashore and conveyed to the back
room of a saloon where a doctor soon revived both. He then proposed
that, some token of recognition should be presented by the assembled
crowd to the brave little fellow who had made the rescue. Paul's hat
was taken and soon filled to the brim with silver. Then the two boys
were loaded into an express wagon and escorted by a policeman, they
started for home. When the wagon reached the house of the boy who
had been rescued, the policeman lifted him out carefully and carried
him in, while the mother's affrighted cries alarmed the neighborhood.
The officer assured her that there was no danger, so she grew calmer
and helped to roll her son into a warm blanket and tuck him snugly in
bed. The old grandmother, who was blind, heard the story and asked
that Paul be brought to her. Her trembling hands were passed over his
face and head. She blessed him fervently and then to the delight of the
grinning urchins, looking in at the door and to Paul's intense
embarrassment, she kissed him several times. At last the policeman told
him to come on and Paul and his silver continued their homeward

journey. When Mrs. Boyton saw her truant son under police escort, she
turned pale, but the officer called out, "Don't be frightened, ma'am, he's
all right. You ought to be proud of this boy," and he