“How deep is it, Glynn?”
“’Bout ten feet, I think.”
“So much? It does not look like it. What a very pretty bit of coral I see over there, close to the white rock; do you see it? It is bright pink. Oh, I would like so much to have it.”
“Would you?” cried Glynn, jumping up and throwing off his jacket; “then here goes for it.”
So saying he clasped his hands above his head, and bending forward, plunged into the pool and went straight at the piece of pink coral, head-foremost, like an arrow!
Glynn was lightly clad. His costume consisted simply of a pair of white canvas trousers and a blue striped shirt, with a silk kerchief round his neck, so that his movements in the water were little, if at all, impeded by his clothes. At the instant he plunged into the water King Bumble happened to approach, and while Ailie stood, petrified with fear as she saw Glynn struggling violently at the bottom of the pool, her sable companion stood looking down with a grin from ear to ear that displayed every one of his white teeth.
“Don’t be ’fraid, Missie Ally,” said the negro; “him’s know wot him’s doin’, ho yis!”
Before Ailie could reply, Glynn was on the surface spluttering and brushing the hair from his forehead with one hand, while with the other he hugged to his breast the piece of pink coral.
“Here—it—ha!—is. My breath—oh—is a’most gone—Ailie—catch hold!” cried he, as he held out the coveted piece of rock to the child, and scrambled out of the pool.
“Oh, thank you, Glynn; but why did you go down so quick and stay so long? I got such a fright.”