But even before I had finished the sentence, the rotten boards gave way, and Fel pitched suddenly forward into the well!
My brain reeled; but next moment my reason—all I ever had and more too—came to my aid. I can't account for it, but I felt as strong and brave as a little woman, and called out,—
"Take hold of the pole, Fel! take hold of the pole!"
I don't know whether she heard me or not, for her screams were coming up hoarse and hollow from the watery depths. All I know is, she did put out both her little hands, and clutch that short pole. The ten-quart pail was dangling from the end of the pole, within two feet of the water.
What was I to do? I could draw up the little tin pail, but not such a heavy weight as Fel. My hope was that I might keep her above water a while, and as long as I could, of course she would not drown. It was a wise thought, and showed great presence of mind in a child of my age. I am glad I have this one redeeming fact to tell of myself—I, who ran wild at the silly story of a make-believe Big Giant!
Yes, I held up that long pole with all the might of my little arms, crying all the while to Seth in the barn,—
"Come quick! come quick!"
It was just as much as I could do. I am sure strength must have been granted me for the task. For a long while, or what seemed to me a long while, nobody heard. Seth was making a great noise with his flail, and if my shout reached his ears he only thought it child's play; but when it kept on and on, so shrill and so full of distress, he dropped his flail at last and ran.
Not a moment too soon; my little strength was giving out.
"Jethro! what's this?" cried he, and caught the pole from my hand. "Well, you're a good one! Don't be scared, little dear." That was to Fel. "Hold on tight, and I'll fetch you up in a jiffy."