"But you couldn't save us both, Bo—I mean, we both couldn't save the fiddle—it would get wet. Think—think of the fiddle, Bo!"
The fire was burning brightly by this time and the little boy was getting warm. He laughed and rubbed his hands and began to sing:—
"Oh, we're going down the river on a great big boat,
And Horatio's so excited he can hardly play a note,
For he never liked the water and he never learned to swim,
And he thinks if he goes sailing now his chances will be slim."
Horatio stopped short and snorted angrily.
"I want you to understand," he said, sharply, "that I'm not afraid of anything. You'll please remember that night when the forest people danced and you thought your time had come, how I saved you by making you sing. There's nothing I fear. Why if—"
But what Horatio was about to say will never be known, for at that moment there came such a frightful noise as neither of them had ever heard before. It came from everywhere at once, and seemed to fill all the sky and set the earth to trembling. It was followed by two or three fierce snorts and a dazzling gleam of light through the trees. The little boy was startled, and as for the Bear, he gave one wild look and fled. In his fright he did not notice a small shrub, and, tripping over it, he fell headlong into a clump of briars, where he lay, groaning dismally that he was killed and that the world was coming to an end.
Suddenly Bosephus gave a shout of laughter.
"Get up, Ratio," he called, "it's our steamboat! We're right near the river and didn't know it. They're landing, too, and we can go right aboard."
The groaning ceased and there was a labored movement among the briars.