"Oh, nonsense; just see how easy it is," said Big Beate, for she thought the goslings were stupid when they didn't want to swim about. She leaned out over the well and blew on the nearest ones—Yes, it helped—the goslings began to swim again. But those that were farthest away didn't move at all.
"What stupid little things!" said Beate, and she leaned far, far out over the edge of the well. Then her little hands slipped on the smooth log and—splash! in she fell deep down into the water. It was so cold, so icy cold, and it closed over her head and took the straw hat, which she had got on her birthday, off her hair. She hadn't time to hear if Little Beate screamed, but I'm sure she did.
When Beate's head came over the water again she grasped the round log with both her hands but the hands were too small and the log too wide and slippery, she couldn't hold on. Then she saw her dear friend, Little Beate, standing stiff and dumb with fright, staring at her and with her right arm stretched out to her. Big Beate hurriedly caught hold of her and Little Beate made herself as stiff as she could, and stiffer still, and stood there between the logs holding her dear friend out of the water.
... and stood there between the logs
holding her dear friend out of the water
Now Beate screamed so loudly that her father and mother heard her and came running as fast as they could, pale and frightened, and pulled her out. She was dripping wet and so scared and cold that her teeth chattered.
The father ran to the house with her, but she begged him for heaven's sake not to leave Little Beate, for she might fall into the well, "And it's she who has saved me."