“Oh, Mr. Jimson!” cried Nettie. “We do want him to save that cat if he can.”
“But he’ll lose a mighty good oar, an’ that raft,” complained the boss.
“Never mind,” said Nettie, firmly. “You can make another oar and another raft. But how are you going to make another cat?”
“I’ll be whip-sawed!” exclaimed the long and lanky man. “Who ever heard the like of that? There’s enough cats come natcher’lly without nobody’s wantin’ t’ make none.”
The girls laughed at this, but they were anxious about the cat. And, the next moment, they began to be anxious about the boy.
Curly threw away the oar and plunged right into the eddy. He had little clothing on, and no shoes, so he was not greatly trammeled in swimming to the drifting hencoop. But once there, how would he get the cat ashore?
However, the boy went about his task in quite a manful manner. He climbed up, got one arm hooked over the roof and reached for the wet and frightened cat. The poor creature was so despairing that she could not even use her claws in defense, and Curly pulled her off her perch and set her on his shoulder.
There she clung trembling, and when Curly let himself down into the water again she only uttered a wailing, “Me-e-ou!” and did not try to scratch him. He struck out for the shore, keeping his shoulders well out of the water, and after a fight of a minute or two, brought the cat to land.
Once within reach of the land, the cat leaped ashore and darted into the bushes; while Jimson helped the breathless Curly to land.
“There! yo’ reckless creatuah!” exclaimed the man. “I’ve seen folks drown in a current no worse than that. Stan’ up an’ make yo’ bow t’ Miss Nettie, here,” and he turned to Nettie, who had got out of the carriage in her interest.