“Is that all, ma’am?” asked Clarence breaking into his sunniest smile.
The woman choked with rage. She tried to speak, but words and voice both failed her.
“Come on, boys,” resumed Ben. “Ready?”
“Yes,” answered the two in a breath.
“Go!”
At the word, the boys sprang into the water. Both disappeared beneath the surface at the same time. Within a few seconds, Ezra emerged and his hands rose high and fast above his head in the overhand stroke. Several seconds passed, and those watching on the shore began to show signs of nervousness. All the gypsies, save, of course, the snarling and profane invalid, were now gathered together beside Ben. Even Dora, who was never to be seen at the river side when the men were swimming, had joined the gazers, standing a few yards apart.
“Oh, Ben,” she cried, “what’s happened to Clarence?”
Ben made no answer. Scanning the surface of the river intently, he was pulling off his shoes.
“He’s drowned! He’s drowned!” screamed the gypsy hag. “My curse has fallen.” Her laugh, horrible to the ear, rang out carrying in its undertones all manner of evil omen.
As the woman was speaking, Dora fell upon her knees.