"Near here
Is a well.
Poor More
In it fell."
In it fell—el—er!
No sooner was the song started than all the crew joined in it. The strain was a dolorous one, and the refrain ended in a peculiar note on the syllable "er," combining something of a sigh, a shriek and a grunt, upon which all the singers laid the full stress of their voices, and stopped with a sudden jerk. The whole effect was comical; and the third verse seemed so pat to the case in hand that it was followed by a roar of laughter that fairly raised the night echoes.
Ferrie, who was something of a wag, saw Gear splashing and spluttering in vain efforts to ascend the raft, for he was but an indifferent swimmer, and broke into an extemporized verse:
Here, dear
Little Gear,
Come quick
And I'll pick
You out of the creek—eek—er!
The effort was hailed with applause, and the refrain was repeated with rousing effect by the chorus:
Out of the creek—eek—er!
Gear took the sally good naturedly, and as he was quite as quick at repartée as Ferrie, sang back from the waves, sputtering and stuttering as he sang:
M—m—Merrie Ferrie,
Sh—sh—shallow fellow,
Shut quick,
Or I'll stick
You into the creek—eek—er!
"Good!" shouted the Brownies, with another hearty peal of laughter, as they repeated the refrain. What a trifling matter will pass for genuine wit among friends who are all in a good humor, and ready to be pleased with every honest attempt at innocent fun!
But Twadeils thought that matters had gone quite far enough, indeed, too far. "Come, come, lads," he said, "this must end. Matters have taken too serious a turn for further mirth. Our lark must end just here. Pull the raft to shore."