sea. The boys stood horrified--all except one, who rushed forward,
pulling off his jacket as he ran, leapt down the bank to the lower
side of the bridge, and, clinging to the timber, held to it with one
arm while he stretched out the other as the drowning boy was being
carried under the bridge, seized him, and held him tightly with his
left hand.

James Chalmers--the boy who had gone to the rescue--though only ten
years old, could swim. Letting go of the bridge, while still holding
the other boy with one arm, he allowed the current to carry them both
down to where the branches hung over the bank to the water's surface.
Seizing one of these, he dragged himself and the boy toward the bank,
whence he was helped to dry land by his friends.

The boy whom young James Chalmers had saved belonged to a rival
school. Often the wild-blooded boys (like their fierce Highland
ancestors who fought clan against clan) had attacked the boys of this
school and had fought them. James, whose father was a stonemason and
whose mother was a Highland lassie born near Loch Lomond, was the
leader in these battles, but all the fighting was forgotten when he
heard that a boy was in danger of his life, and so he had plunged in
as swiftly to save him as he would have done for any boy from his own
school.

We do not hear that James was clever at lessons in his school, but
when there was anything to be done, he had the quickest hand, the
keenest eye, the swiftest mind, and the most daring heart in all the
village.

Though he loved the hills and glens and the mountain torrent, James,