"Help!" said a very sweet and frightened voice.
Ellis got hold of one claw, Jones the other, almost before they comprehended—certainly before, deep in the scaly creature's maw, they discovered the frightened but lovely features of the grey-eyed girl who had snap-shot them.
"Please pull," she said; "I can't swim in this!"
Almost hysterically they soothed her as they tugged and steered the thing into the flooded forest.
"Mr. Ellis—please—please don't pull quite so hard," she called out.
"Oh, did I hurt you?" he cried so tenderly that, even in the shock of emotions, Jones was ashamed of him.
"No, you don't hurt me, Mr. Ellis; I'm all right inside here, but I—I—you must not pull this papier-mâché dragon to pieces——"
"What do I care for the dragon if you are in danger?" cried Ellis, excitedly.
But it was a frightened and vexed voice that answered almost tearfully: "If you pull too hard on the pasteboard legs something dreadful may happen. I—this dragon is—is about the only clothing I have on!"
Ellis dropped the flipper, seized it again, and gazed into the scared eyes of Jones.