gracious!" cried Tom, with a look of horror, "it's some fellow being swept down by the stream! See, he's broken his paddle, and can't help himself!"

Instinctively all three sprang forward at once, although the doomed voyager was manifestly beyond the reach of help. But even as they did so, the crisis came. With one leap the boat was in the midst of the rapids, banged to and fro like a shuttlecock by the white leaping waves, amid which it appeared and vanished by turns, till a final plunge sent it right toward the edge of the fall.

The lookers-on turned away their faces; but all was not over yet. By a lucky chance the boat's head had been turned straight toward the island, upon which the current drove it with such force as to dash it in among the sharp rocks, that pierced its sides and held it firm, while its occupant was flung forward on his face among the bushes.

"Phew!" said Tom, drawing a long breath, "what a shave! Ugh! wasn't it horrid, just that last minute? I'm awfully glad he's got off."

"But how's he to get ashore?" asked the practical Charlie. "It seems to me he's in just as bad a fix as ever."

Meanwhile the unlucky voyager had scrambled to his feet, and was staring wildly about him.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Tom, "if it isn't my old chum Fred Hope! I'd no idea he was home again."

"I don't think he sees us," said Harry; "let's give him a hail, just to show him there's help at hand. I've heard my father say that if a fellow's left long alone in a place like that he'll go crazy with the fright and the motion of the water."

Tom was not slow to take the hint. He sprang upon the bowlder behind which they were standing, and, putting both hands to his mouth, shouted, above the din of the water-fall, "Hollo, Fred, old boy! how goes it?"

"Who-o's that?" answered a faint voice, tremulous with terror.

"Why, don't you remember Tom Lockyer?"

"Oh, Tom, is that you? Get me out of this somehow, if you can."

"Never fear, old chap; we'll have you out in no time," replied Tom, cheerily.

"But how on earth are you going to do it?" whispered Harry, amazed at his friend's confident tone.

"Haven't the least idea, so far," answered the philosophic Tom, coolly; "but it's got to be done somehow. If the worst comes to the worst, I can always run home for help, while you two stay here and keep his spirits up."

"If we could only get a rope across," suggested Charlie. "He's got one there, I know, for I saw it tumble out of the boat as she swamped; but how are we to get at it?"

"I have it!" cried Tom, suddenly. "Fancy my not thinking of this old sling of mine, when I've been using it all morning! I've read lots of yarns about fellows sending messages by arrows: let's see if a stone won't do just as well for once!"

He produced a ball of twine from his pocket as he spoke, and fastened one end of it firmly around a jagged stone which he had picked up.

"See if you've got some more string, boys," said he; "perhaps this bit won't be long enough."

The cord was soon lengthened sufficiently, and Tom, bidding his comrades keep a firm hold of the other end, mounted once more upon the bowlder, and shouted, "Fred, ahoy!"

"Hollo!" responded the islander, whose nerves were being rapidly steadied by the prospect of help, and the sound of Tom's cheery voice.

"We're going to chuck you a line: mind and be ready to catch it."

"All right."

The stone whizzed through the air, and splashed into the water on the other side of the islet, while Fred promptly seized the cord attached to it.

"So far so good, as the hungry boy said when he got half way through the pie," remarked Tom. "Now, old fellow, just knot the string to that rope of yours, and the job's done."

Fred obeyed at once, and the two Burtons hauled in. The rope, once landed, was quickly made fast to the nearest tree, while Fred secured his end to one of the pines on the islet. The communication was complete.

"But what next?" asked Harry. "Do you expect the poor fellow to walk ashore on that rope, like Blondin?"

"Not quite," said Tom, laughing. "It's a case of Mohammed and the mountain—if he don't come to me, I must just go to him. Here goes!"

And, our hero, swinging himself up on to the rope, began to slide along it, hand over hand, in true gymnastic style.

Taut as the line was, it yielded a little with his weight, and he came perilously near the water midway; but the rope held firm, and in another moment he was safe upon the islet, shaking hands heartily with the expectant Fred.

"Mr. Robinson Crusoe, I presume?" said Tom, with a grin. "I'm the Man Friday, at your service; and a nice little island we've got of it. Now, old boy, there's your road open, and you've just seen the correct way to travel it; so off with you, and show us the latest thing in gymnastics."

"What, along that rope?" cried Fred, with a shudder which showed that he had not quite shaken off his panic yet. "Ugh! I couldn't. The bare sight of the fall below me would turn me sick; it looks just as if it was watching for me to tumble in!"

"Oh, if it's only the sight of the water that bothers you, that's easily settled," rejoined Tom, struck at that moment with a new and brilliant idea. "I remember hearing a fellow spin a yarn once about how he had escaped being ill at sea, by tying a handkerchief over his eyes so that he couldn't see the jiggle-joggling of the water. If I blindfold you, do you think you can manage it then?"

"Ye-es—I should think I might," replied Fred, somewhat doubtfully.

"Here you are, then," said the ever-ready Tom, producing a tattered red handkerchief, with which he bandaged his friend's eyes most scientifically. "Now, old boy, push along—think you're in for an Athletic Cup, with a lot of ladies looking on!"

The device worked wonders. Relieved from the disturbing sight of the precipice and the rushing water, and hearing Tom's hearty voice behind him, cheering him on, Fred went forward manfully; and he was quite surprised to feel his outstretched wrist suddenly seized in a strong grasp, and to hear the shouts of the Burtons proclaiming that he had got safe to land.

"Well done, our side!" shouted Tom, arriving a moment later. "That's what I call blindman's-buff on a new principle, and no mistake!"

A STEAM-ENGINE OUT OF A TIN CAN.

BY THE PROFESSOR.

Few boys seem to be aware of the entertainment they may obtain with a soldering iron, a pair of shears, and a file. With them it is easy to manufacture working models of machinery, and philosophical apparatus almost without limit. Skill in the use of the iron is readily acquired with a little practice. The quickest way to learn is to observe for a few minutes a tinman at his work. A good-natured one, politely approached, will quickly explain all the mysteries in the process, and take pleasure in filling the office of teacher. For heating the iron, a charcoal fire is generally preferred; a gas stove is also good; and even a common coal fire can be made to answer. The first point is to make a little of the melted solder stick to the point of the iron. For this purpose the iron is filed bright about the point, to remove the oxide and expose the clear metal; then the iron must be quickly applied to the solder. If the heat is sufficient, the iron will get coated, and be ready for use. The oxide has to be removed also from the surface of the material that is to be united; it is the chief obstacle to successful soldering, as the solder refuses to unite with anything but pure metal. Sal ammoniac dissolved in water is good to cleanse off the oxide; better still is muriatic acid, with a little zinc and sal ammoniac added. This is known as the soldering mixture.