Sunny Boy sat down on the bank to take off his skates and Grandpa
Horton told the policeman what had happened to them.

"Do you know, I thought about the little chap," said the policeman
kindly. "I knew you were with him; but I said, suppose the crowd tears
'em apart from each other? I know what a crowd can do when it loses
its head, you see. All the time I was telling girls they were not
drowned, I kept one eye open for the little boy, but I didn't catch a
glimpse of him. You say an older lad pulled him ashore?"

"Yes, and he ran away when I said I was going to try to find you," said
Sunny Boy, standing up, now that the skates were off. "He was just as
nice, but he is afraid of policemen."

"Then he is a silly boy, and you tell him I said so," answered the tall
policeman promptly. "Of course a bad boy might not want to see me; but
this was a mighty good lad, to my way of thinking. He has an old head
on young shoulders, to get you out of such a mix-up without a scratch."

But the policeman could not tell them who the big boy was, of course;
and after they went home, and found that Mother and Grandma had a bowl
of good, hot, buttered popcorn for them, Sunny Boy and Grandpa
continued to talk about the lad in the poor, torn coat and to wish they
could find him. Daddy Horton, too, at dinner that night said he would
rather find the boy than a ten dollar goldpiece.

"I'm afraid he is a lad who needs some help," he said anxiously; "and
we would be so glad to do anything for him. I must see some of the men
who work over in the River Section and try to get them to hunt him up."