"No, no; go on," whispered Bo, who had crept down quite to the water's edge. "Now—ready! sing!"
"Then 'tis 'Gator, Alligator, we expect to see you later,
If you really have to leave us—if you can't remain to tea—
Then 'tis Turtle, Mr. Turtle, you will notice we are fertile,
In providing entertainment for our com—pa—nee."
New arrivals appeared constantly until the water and logs and stumps by the water's edge were alive with listening creatures. Still remembering the panther dance the boy called in a whisper to Horatio:—
"Softly now; sing it again."
They repeated the song, letting their voices and music gradually blend into the whispering of the trees. Bo sang with closed eyes, but the watching Bear saw the listening circle of heads sink lower and lower so gently that he could not be sure when the water had closed over them. From roots and logs and stumps dark forms slid noiselessly into the stream and disappeared. The music died away and ceased. Horatio looked at the little boy eagerly.
"HELP! HELP!"