“I don’t think so,” Judy said. “Besides, I’m so cold now that being a little colder won’t matter, and I’m already soaking wet. Please, Horace, I’ll have to try it.”
“I don’t like it a bit,” Horace said. “But what can I do? I’ll look after Dick Hartwell and keep his head above water if it comes to that. He wouldn’t make the effort to save himself.”
“No,” Judy answered, “I suppose he wouldn’t.”
Suddenly she threw her arms around her brother’s neck and kissed him.
“Cut it out!” he exclaimed. “This isn’t a last farewell. Go ahead, climb up on my shoulder. I’m getting used to it by now. When you see the water you may change your mind—”
“And yell for help!” Judy finished. “I think we ought to yell, anyway, don’t you?”
Horace needed no urging. He waited until Judy was standing behind the cupids with the waterfall all around her. Then, while she called, “Help! Help! Help!” from her high perch, he joined in from below. They both shouted and called until they were hoarse, but nobody answered.
“Is it because nobody hears us or because nobody cares?” Judy wondered.
Then, suddenly, she remembered what her grandmother had once told her. “There’s always Someone who cares.” This thought renewed the determined spirit within her.
“Go back!” she called down to her brother. “I’ll yell to you as soon as I’m safe. Oh, Horace! It will be harder for you waiting down there with the water pouring in than it will be for me going through it.”