Ah, baby, foolish baby, do you think you can seize that bright river and carry it home? No, it is the bright river that is going to seize you, unless somebody stops your little feet before they get to the brink!
About this time Preston Gray had finished reciting his lesson. It was not a very good one, though his teacher found no fault whatever; and now instead of going home, Preston strolled along toward the “Children’s Park,” thinking how strange it was that little girls should scream so much louder than boys at their games.
“Flaxie is a gay one,” said he, as he saw her chasing her children with a white birch switch; but at that moment he saw something else that made his heart stand still. The Proudfit baby was scrambling down the bank, just above the falls!
Preston called out, but it was of no use; there was not a man to be seen, and if there had been twenty men they could have heard nothing, while the little girls were making such a noise. He ran with all his might, but by the time he reached the bank, the baby had tumbled headlong into the river!
What was to be done? Preston was only a little boy himself, let me tell you, and though he had learned to swim, the current was strong right here, and there was great danger of his being carried over the falls.
What would you have done, my little reader? Perhaps you would have stopped to think a good many times, saying to yourself:
“Oh, I don’t dare, I don’t dare!”
And then, ah, then, it might have been too late!
Preston was called a slow boy, but he didn’t stop to think once; he did his thinking while he was pulling off his shoes.
“I must do it!” that was all he thought. And then he dashed in.