Dallas looked confused, took her hand, stepped into the canoe, over-balanced and went ker-splash! into the water and down under the crib from which the canoes were being launched.
I waited two seconds, saw Cassowary drop like a loon after him, but she did not bring him up. Then I galloped to the beach and wading out swam carefully to the edge of the crib, thinking perhaps I could aid with teeth or tail, for one of my water stunts is to bring ashore children who pretend they are drowning.
Cassowary, who was almost as much at home under the water as on it, was plunging about like a seal, and just as I arrived had brought Dallas to the surface, and holding him by the collar with one hand and hanging on to the crib with the other she gravely watched Champ and Big Chief giving first aid to the drowning by putting my poor little master on his face and pressing the water out of his lungs.
Mr. Devering came springing down the path like a boy, and when he saw his dear lad, his face went white and he said irritably, "What does this mean?"
Dallas by this time was sitting up and spitting out last mouthfuls of water, so his uncle saw he was in no danger.
"Come here, Dad, please," said Cassowary.
Mr. Devering bent over his young daughter as she swayed herself idly to and fro in the water, only her head and shoulders visible.
"Do you remember the picture," she said, "in the comic paper about the six boys and girls going gaily to pick mushrooms and it was labelled, 'They thought they knew mushrooms'?"
"Yes, I remember it," he said impatiently.
She went on, "Then there was another picture of six little funerals marked, 'But they didn't.'"