But Taffy, passing him at a distance, remembered another small boy, and shivered to remember and compare-- "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." -- But how when the boy is a cripple?
One afternoon he was stooping to inspect an obstinate piece of boring when the man at his elbow said: "Hullo! edn' that young Joey Pezzack in diffities up there?
Blest if the cheeld won't break his neck wan of these days!" Taffy caught up a coil of rope, sprang into a boat, and pushed across to land.

"Don't move!" he shouted.

At the foot of the cliff he picked up Joey's crutch and ran at full speed up the path worn by the workmen.

This led him round to the verge ten feet above the ledge where the child clung white and silent.

He looped the rope in a running noose and lowered it.
"Slip this under your arms.