“What’s the matter with you?” snapped The Fox. “Don’t say you’ve got a bite! I’m sick of hearing them say it over there––”
“I’ve caught one,” said Ruth, with pride, pointing to the glistening tautog lying on the rock.
“Oh! Of course, ’twould be you who got it,” snarled Mary. “I bet he gave you the best place.”
“Please keep still!” begged Ruth. “I believe I’ve got another bite.”
“Have a dozen for all I care,” returned Mary. “I want to get past you.”
“Wait! I feel a nibble––”
But Mary pushed rudely by. She took the inside of the path, of course. The ledge was very narrow, and Ruth was stooping over the deep pool, breathlessly watching the line.
With a half-stifled scream Ruth fell forward, flinging out both hands. Mary clutched at her–she did try to save her. But she was not quick enough. Ruth dropped like a plummet and the green water closed over her with scarcely a splash.
Mary did not cry out. She was speechless with fear, and stood with clasped hands, motionless, upon the path.
“She can swim! she can swim!” was the thought that shuttled back and forth in The Fox’s brain.