When Tommy Rooney came to the surface he was choking and coughing, and paddled for only a moment, feebly, before going under again. It was plain that he could not swim.
“Oh, oh!” cried Dot. “He’ll be drowned. Tommy Rooney will be drowned! And what will his mother say to that?”
Tess wrung her hands and screamed for help. But there was no help.
That is, there would have been none for poor Tommy, if it had not been for quick-witted Maria Maroni. Quickly she snatched the baby from the carriage and put him into Tess’ arms. Then she flung out the pillows and wrappings, and ran the carriage to the brow of the canal-bank.
Up came Tommy again, his eyes open, gurgling a cry, and fighting to keep above the surface.
Up came Tommy again, his eyes open, gurgling a cry, and fighting to keep above the surface.
“Look out, boy!” cried Maria, and she ran the baby carriage right down the bank, letting it go free.
The carriage wheeled into the water and floated, as Maria knew it would. It was within the reach of Tommy’s still sturdy hands. He grabbed it, and although it dipped some, it bore up his weight so that he did not sink again.
By that time men had heard their cries, and came running from the lock. They soon fished out Master Tommy and the baby carriage, too.