The Tide-Marsh
"What are you going to wear to-night in case you can go, Mary Bell?"said Ellen Brewster in her lowest tones."Come upstairs and I'll show you," said Mary Bell Barber, glancing,as they tiptoed out of the room, toward the kitchen's sunny big westwindow, where the invalid mother lay in uneasy slumber."My new white looks grand," said Ellen on the stairs. "I made itempire."Mary Bell said nothing. She opened the door of her spacious barebedroom, where tree shadows lay like a pattern on the faded carpet,and the sinking sun found worn places in the clean white curtains.On the bed lay a little ruffled pink gown, a petticoat foamy withlace, white stockings, and white slippers. Mary Bell caught up thegown and held the shoulders against her own, regarding the oldergirl meanwhile with innocent, exultant eyes. Ellen was impressed."Well, for pity's sake--if you haven't done wonders with thatdress!" she ejaculated admiringly. "What on earth did you do to it?""Well--first I thought it was too far gone," confessed Mary Bell,laying it down tenderly, "and I wished I hadn't been in such a hurryto get my new hat. But I ripped it all up and washed it, and I tookthese little roses off my year-before-last hat, and got a newpattern,--and I tell you I worked! Wait until you see it on! I justfinished pressing it this afternoon.""Oh, say--I hope you can go now, after all this!" said Ellen,earnestly.The other girl's face clouded."I'll never get over it if I don't!" she said. "It seems to me Inever wanted to go anywhere so much in all my life! But some one'sgot to stay with mama.""I'd go crazy,--not knowing!" said Ellen. "Who are you going toask?""There it is!" said Mary Bell. "Until yesterday I thought, ofcourse, Gran'ma Scott would come. Then Mary died, and she went up toDayne. So I went over and asked Bernie; her baby isn't but threeweeks old, you know, and I thought she might bring it over here.Mama would love to have it! But late last night Tom came over, andhe said Bernie was so crazy to go, they were going to take the babyalong!""You poor thing!" said the sympathetic listener."I was nearly crazy!" said Mary Bell, crimping a pink ruffle withcareful finger-tips. "I was working on this when he came, and afterhe'd gone I crumpled it all up and cried all over it! Well, I guessI didn't sleep much, and finally, I got up early, and wrote a letterto Aunt Matty, in Sacramento, and I ran over to Dinwoodie's with itthis morning, and asked Lew if he was going up there to-day. He saidhe was, and he took the note for Aunt Mat. I told her about thedance, and that every one was going, and asked her to come back withLew. He said he'd see her first thing!""Oh, she will!" said Ellen, confidently. "But, say, Mary Bell, whydon't you walk over to the hotel with me now and ask Johnnie ifshe'll stay if your aunt doesn't come? I don't believe she and Waltare going.""They mightn't want to leave the hotel on account of drummers on thenight train," said Mary Bell, dubiously. "And that's the very timemama gets most scared. She's always afraid there are boes on thetrain.""Boes!" said Ellen, scornfully, "what could a bo do!""Well, I will go over and talk to Johnnie," said Mary Bell, withsudden hope. "I'm going to get all ready except my dress, in caseAunt Mat comes," she confided eagerly, when she had kissed thedrowsy mother, and they were on their way."Say, did you know that Jim Carr is going to-night with CarrieParmalee?" said Ellen, significantly, as the girls crossed theclean, bare dooryard, under the blossoming locust trees.Mary Bell's heart grew cold,--sank. She had hoped, if she did go,that some chance might make her escort no other than Jim Carr."It'll make me sick if she gets him," said Ellen, frankly. Althoughengaged herself, she felt an unabated interest in the love-affairsabout her."Is he going to drive her over?" asked Mary Bell, clearing herthroat."No, thank the Lord for that!" said Ellen, piously. "No. It's allMrs. Parmalee's doing, anyway! His horse is lame, and I guess shethought it was a good chance! He'll drive over there with Gus andmama and papa and Sadie and Mar'gret; and I guess he'll get enoughof 'em, too!"Mary Bell breathed again. He hadn't asked Carrie, anyway. And ifshe, Mary Bell, really went to the dance, and the pink frock lookedwell, and Jim Carr saw all the other boys crowding about her fordances--The rosy dream brought them to the steps of the American PalaceHotel, for Deaneville was only a village, and a brisk walker mighthave circled it in twenty minutes. The hideous brown hotel, with itslong porches, was the largest building in the place, except for haybarns, and fruit storehouses. Three or four saloons, a "socialhall," the "general store," and the smithy, formed the main street,and diverging from it scattered the wide shady lanes that led to oldhomesteads and orchards."Johnnie," Walt Larabee's little black-eyed manager and wife, andthe most beloved of Deaneville matrons, was in the bare, odoroushallway. She was clad in faded blue denim overalls, and a floatingtransparent kimono of some cheap stuff. Her coal-black hair wasrigidly puffed and pinned, and ornamented with two coquettish redroses, and her thin cheeks were rouged."Well, say--don't you girls think you're the whole thing!" said thelady, blithely. "Not for a minute! Walt and me are going to thisdance, too!"She waved toward them one of the slippers she was cleaning."Walt said somethin' about it yes'day," continued Mrs. Larabee, withrelish, "but I said no; no twelve-mile drive for me, with a youngbaby! But some folks we know came down on the morning train--yougirls have heard me speak of Ed and Lizzie Purdy?""Oh, yes!" said Mary Bell, sick with one more disappointment."Well," pursued Johnnie, "they had dinner here, and come t' talk itover, Lizzie was wild to go, and Ed got Walt all worked up, andnothing would do but we must get out our old carryall, and taketheir Thelma and my Maxine along! Well, laugh--we were like a lot ofkids! I'm crazy to dance just once in Pitcher's barn. We're going upearly, and have our supper up there.""We're going to do that, too," said Ellen, with pleasantanticipation. "Ma and I always help set tables, and so on! It's lotsof fun!"Mary Bell's face grew sober as she listened. It would be fun to beone of the gay party in the big barn, in the twilight, and to haveher share of the unpacking and arranging, and the excitement ofarriving wagons and groups. The great supper of cold chicken andboiled eggs and fruit and pickles, the fifty varieties of cake,would be spread downstairs; and upstairs the musicians would betuning their instruments as early as seven o'clock, and the eagerboys and girls trying their steps, and changing cards. And thenthere would be feasting and laughing and talking, and, above all,dancing until dawn!"Beg pardon, Johnnie?" she stammered."Well, looks like some one round here is in love, or something!"said Johnnie, freshly. "I never had it that bad, did you, Ellen?Ellen's been telling me how you're fixed, Mary Bell," she went onwith deep concern, "and I was suggestin' that you run over to thegeneral store, and ask Mis' Rowe--or I should say, Mis' Bates," shecorrected herself with a grin, and the girls laughed--"if she won'tsleep at your house tonight. Chess'll tend store. It'll be somethingfierce if you don't go, Mary Bell, so you run along and ask thebride!" laughed Johnnie."I believe I would," approved Ellen, and the girls accordinglycrossed the grassy, uneven street to the store.An immense gray-haired woman was in the doorway."Well, is it ribbon or stockings, or what?" said she, smiling. "Theplace has gone crazy! There ain't going to be a soul here but me to-night."Mary Bell was silent. Ellen spoke."Chess ain't going, is he?" she asked.The old woman shook with laughter."Chess ain't nothing but a regular kid," she said. "He was dying togo, but he knew I couldn't, and he never said a word. Finally, myboy Tom and his wife, and Len and Josie and the children, they alldrove by on their way to Pitcher's; and Len--he's a good dealolder'n Chess, you know--he says to me, 'You'd oughter leave Chesscome along with the rest of us, ma; jest because he's married ain'tno reason he's forgot how to dance!' Well, I burst right outlaughing, and I says, 'Why didn't he say he wanted to go?' and Chessrun upstairs for his other suit, and off they all went!"There was nothing for it, then, but to wait for Lew Dinwoodie andthe news from Aunt Mat.Mary Bell walked slowly back through the fragrant lanes, passed nowand then by a surrey loaded with joyous passengers already bound forPitcher's barn. She was at her own gate, when a voice calling herwhisked her about as if by magic."Hello, Mary Bell!" said Jim Carr, joining her. But she looked sopretty in her blue cotton dress, with the yellow level of a field ofmustard-tops behind her, and beyond that the windbreak of gold-tipped eucalyptus trees, that he went on almost confusedly, "You--you look terribly pretty in that dress! Is that what you're going towear?""This!" laughed Mary Bell. And she raised her dancing eyes, to growa little confused in her turn. Nature, obedient to whose lawblossoms were whitening the fruit trees, wheat pricking through thedamp earth, robins mating in the orchards, had laid the first threadof her great bond upon these two. They smiled silently at eachother."I'm not even sure I'm going!" said Mary Bell, ruefully.The sudden look of concern in his face went straight to her heart.Jim Carr really cared, then, that she couldn't go! Big, clever,kindly Jim Carr, who was superintendent at the power-house, and acomparative newcomer in Deaneville, was an important personage."Not going!" said Jim, blankly. "Oh, say--why not!"Mary Bell explained. But Jim was encouraging."Why, of course your aunt will come!" he assured her sturdily."She'll know what it means to you. You'll go up with the Dickeys,won't you? I'm going up early, with the Parmalees, but I'll look outfor you! I've got to hunt up my kid brother now; he's got to sleepat Montgomery's to-night. I don't want him alone at the hotel, ifJohnnie isn't there. If you happen to see him, will you tell him?""All right," said Mary Bell. And her spirits were sufficientlybraced by his encouragement to enable her to call cheerfully afterhim, "See you later, Jim!""See you later!" he shouted back, and Mary Bell went back to thekitchen with a lightened heart. Aunt Mat wouldn't--couldn't--failher!She carried a carefully prepared tray in to her mother at fiveo'clock, and sat beside her while the invalid slowly finished hermilk-toast and tea, and the cookies and jelly Mary Bell was famousfor. The girl chatted cheerfully."You don't feel very badly about the dance, do you, deary?" saidMrs. Barber, as the gentle young hands settled her comfortably forthe night."Not a speck!" answered Mary Bell, bravely, as she kissed her."Bernie and Johnnie going--married women!" said the old lady,sleepily. "I never heard such nonsense! Don't you go out of call,will you, dear?"Mary Bell was eating her own supper, ten minutes later, when thetrain whistled, and she ran, breathless, to the road, to meet LewDinwoodie."What did Aunt Matty say, Lew?" called Mary Bell, peering behind himinto the closed surrey, for a glimpse of the old lady.The man stared at her with a falling jaw."Well, I guess I owe you one for this, Mary Bell!" he stammered."I'll eat my shirt if I thought of your note again!"It was too much. Mary Bell began to dislodge little particles ofdried mud carefully from the wheel, her eyes swimming, her breastrising."Right in her part of town, too!" pursued the contrite messenger;"but, as I say--"Mary Bell did not hear him. After a while he was gone, and she wassitting on the steps, hopeless, dispirited, tired. She sombrelywatched the departing surreys and phaetons. "I could have gone withthem--or with them!" she would think, when there was an empty seat.The Parmalees went by; two carriage loads. Jim Carr was in thephaeton with Carrie at his side. All the others were in the surrey."I'm keeping 'em where I can have an eye on 'em!" Mrs. Parmaleecalled out, pointing to the phaeton.Everybody waved, and Mary Bell waved back. But when they were gone,she dropped her head on her arms.Dusk came; the village was very still. A train thundered by, andPotter's windmill creaked and splashed,--creaked and splashed. Acow-bell clanked in the lane, and Mary Bell looked up to see theDickeys' cow dawdle by, her nose sniffing idly at the clover, herdowny great bag leaving a trail of foam on the fresh grass. From upthe road came the faint approaching rattle of wheels.Wheels?The girl looked toward the sound curiously. Who drove so recklessly?She noticed a bank of low clouds in the east, and felt a puff ofcool air on her cheek."It feels like rain!" she said, watching the wagon as it came near."That's Henderson's mare, and that's their wooden-legged hired man!Why, what is it?"The last words were cried aloud, for the galloping old horse anddriver were at the gate now, and eyes less sharp than Mary Bell'swould have detected something wrong."What is it?" she cried again, at the gate. The man pulled upsharply."Say, ain't there a man here, nowhere?" he demanded abruptly. "I'vebeen banging at every house along the way; ain't there a soul in theplace?""Dance!" explained Mary Bell. "The Ladies' Improvement Society inPitcher's new barn. Why! what is it? Mrs. Henderson sick?""No, ma'am!" said the old fellow, "but things is pretty serious downthere!" He jerked his hand over his shoulder. "There's some littlefellers,--four or five of 'em!--seems they took a boat to-day, to goducking, and they're lost in the tide-marsh! My God--an' I neverthought of the dance!" He gave a despairing glance at the quietstreet. "I come here to get twenty men--or thirty--for the search!"he said heavily. "I don't know what to do, now!"Mary Bell had turned very white."There isn't a soul here, Stumpy!" she said, terrified eyes on hisface. "There isn't a man in town! What can we do!--Say!" she criedsuddenly, springing to the seat, "drive me over to Mrs. Rowe's;she's married to Chess Bates, you know, at the store. Go on, Stumpy!What boys are they?""I know the Turner boys and the Dickey boy is three of 'em," saidthe old man, "and Henderson's own boy, Davy--poor leetle feller!--and Buddy Hopper, and the Adams boy. They had a couple of guns, andthey was all in this boat of Hopper's, poking round the marsh, andit began to look like rain, and got dark. Well, she was shipping alittle water, and Hopper and Adams wanted to tie her to the edge andwalk up over the marsh, but the other fellers wanted to go on roundthe point. So Adams and Hopper left 'em, and come over the marsh,and walked to the point, but she wasn't there. Well, they waited andhallooed, but bimeby they got scared, and come flying up toHenderson's, and Henderson and me--there ain't another man there to-night!--we run down to the marsh, and yelled, but us two couldn't donothing! Tide's due at eleven, and it's going to rain, so I lefthim, and come in for some men. Henderson's just about crazy! Theylost a boy in that tide-marsh a while back.""It's too awful,--it's just murder to let 'em go there!" said MaryBell, heart-sick. For no dragon of old ever claimed his prey moreregularly than did the terrible pools and quicksands of the greatmarsh.Mrs. Bates was practical. Her old face blanched, but she began toplan instantly."Don't cry, Mary Bell!" said she; "this thing is in God's hands. Hecan save the poor little fellers jest as easy with a one-legged manas he could with a hundred hands. You drive over to the depot,Stumpy, and tell the operator to plug away at Barville until he getssome one to take a message to Pitcher's barn. It'll be a good threehours before they even git this far," she continued doubtfully, asthe old man eagerly rattled away, "and then they've got to get downto Henderson's; but it may be an all-night search! Now, lemme seewho else we can git. Deefy, over to the saloon, wouldn't be no good.But there's Adams's Chinee boy, he's a good strong feller; you stopfor him, and git Gran'pa Barry, too; he's home to-night!""Look here, Mrs. Bates," said Mary Bell, "shall I go?"The old woman speculatively measured the girl's superb figure, herglowing strength, her eager, resolute face. Mary Bell was like aspirited horse, wild to be given her head."You're worth three men," said the storekeeper."Got light boots?""Yes," said the girl, thrilled and quivering."You run git 'em!" said Mrs. Bates, "and git your good lantern. I'llbe gitting another lantern, and some whiskey. Poor little fellers! Ihope to God they're all sneakin' home--afraid of a lickin'!--thisvery minute. And Mary Bell, you tell your mother I'll close up, andcome and sit with her!"It was a sorry search-party, after all, that presently rattled outof town in the old wagon. On the back seat sat the impassive andgood-natured Chinese boy, and a Swedish cook discovered at the lastmoment in the railroad camp and pressed into service. On the frontseat Mary Bell was wedged in between the driver and Grandpa Barry, athin, sinewy old man, stupid from sleep. Mary Bell never forgot thesilent drive. The evening was turning chilly, low clouds scuddedacross the sky, little gusts of wind, heavy with rain, blew aboutthem. The fall of the horse's feet on the road and the rattle ofharness and wheels were the only sounds to break the broodingstillness that preceded the storm. After a while the road ran levelwith the marshes, and they got the rank salt breeze full in theirfaces; and in the last light they could see the glitter of darkwater creeping under the rushes. The first flying drops of rainfell."And right over the ridge," said Mary Bell to herself, "they aredancing!"A fire had been built at the edge of the marsh, and three figuresran out from it as they came up: two boys and a heavy middle-agedman. It was for Mary Bell to tell Henderson that it would be hoursbefore he could look for other help than this oddly assortedwagonful. The man's disappointment was pitiful."My God--my God!" he said heavily, as the situation dawned on him,"an' I counted on fifty! Well, 'tain't your fault, Mary Bell!"They all climbed out, and faced the trackless darkening stretch ofpools and hummocks, the treacherous, uncertain ground beneath atangle of coarse grass. Even with fifty men it would have been anugly search.The marsh, like all the marshes thereabout, was intersected atirregular intervals by decrepit lines of fence-railing, running downfrom solid ground to the water's edge, half a mile away. Thesedivisions were necessary for various reasons. In duck season thehunters who came up from San Francisco used them both as guides andas property lines, each club shooting over only a given number ofsections. Between seasons the farmers kept them in repair, as acontrol for the cattle that strayed into the marsh in dry weather.The distance between these shaky barriers was some two or threehundred feet. At their far extremity, the posts were submerged inthe restless black water of the bay.Mary Bell caught Henderson's arm as he stood baffled and silent."Mr. Henderson!" she said eagerly, "don't you give in! While we'rewaiting for the others we can try for the boys along the fences!There's no danger, that way! We can go way down into the marsh,holding on,--and keep calling!""That's what I say!" shrilled old Barry, fired by her tone.The Chinese boy had already taken hold of a rail, and was warilyfollowing it across the uneven ground."They've been there three hours, now!" groaned Henderson; but evenas he spoke he beckoned to the two little boys. Mary Bell recognizedthe two survivors."You keep those flames so high, rain or no rain," Henderson chargedthem, "that we can see 'em from anywheres!"A moment later the searchers plunged into the marsh, facing bravelyaway from lights and voices and solid earth.Stumbling and slipping, Mary Bell followed the fence. The rainslapped her face, and her rubber boots dragged in the shallow water.But she thought only of five little boys losing hope and couragesomewhere in this confusing waste, and her constant shouting wasfull of reassurance."Nobody would be scared with this fence to hang on to!" she assuredherself, "no matter how fast the tide came in!" She rested a momenton the rail, glancing back at the distant fire, now only a dullglow, low against the sky.Frequently the rail was broken, and dipped treacherously for a fewfeet; once it was lacking entirely, and for an awful ten feet shemust bridge the darkness without its help. She stood still, turningher guttering lantern on waving grasses and sinister pools. "Theyare all dancing now!" she said aloud, wonderingly, when she hadreached the opposite rail, with a fast-beating heart. After anendless period of plunging and shouting, she was at the water's veryedge.There was light enough to see the ruffled, cruel surface of theriver, where its sluggish forces swept into the bay. Idly bumpingthe grasses was something that brought Mary Bell's heart into herthroat. Then she cried out in relief, for it was not the thing shefeared, but the little deserted boat, right side up."That means they left her!" said Mary Bell, trembling with nervousterror. She shouted again in the darkness, before turning for thehomeward trip. It seemed very long. Once she thought she must begoing aimlessly back and forth on the same bit of rail, but a momentmore brought her to the missing rail again, and she knew she hadbeen right. Blown by the wind, struck by the now flying rain,deafened by the gurgling water and the rising storm, she fought herway back to the fire again. The others were all there, and with themthree cramped and chilled little boys, crying fright and relief, andclinging to the nearest adult shoulder. The Chinese boy and GrandpaBarry had found them, standing on a hummock that was still clear ofthe rising tide, and shouting with all their weary strength."Oh, thank God!" said Mary Bell, her heart rising with sudden hope."We'll get the others, now, please God!" said Henderson, quietly."We were working too far over. You said they were all right when youleft them, Lesty?" he said to one of the shivering little lads."Ye-es, sir!" chattered Lesty, eagerly, shaking with nervousness."They was both all right! Davy wanted to git Billy over to thefence, so if the tide come up!"--terror swept him again. "Oh, Mr.Henderson, git 'em--git 'em! Don't leave 'em drowned out there!" hesobbed frantically, clutching the big man with bony, wet littlehands."I'm going to try, Lesty!"Henderson turned back to the marsh, and Mary Bell went too."Billy who?" said Mary Bell; but her heart told her, beforeHenderson said it, that the answer would be, "Jim Carr's kidbrother!""Are you good for this?" said Henderson, when the four fittest hadreached that part of the marsh where the boys had been found.She met his look courageously, his lantern showing her wet, braveyoung face, crossed by dripping strands of hair."Sure!" she said."Well, God bless you!" he said; "God--bless--you! You take thisfence, I'll go over to that 'n."The rushing, noisy darkness again. The horrible wind, the slipping,the plunging again. Again the slow, slow progress; driven andwhipped now by the thought that at this very instant--or this one--the boys might be giving out, relaxing hold, abandoning hope, andslipping numb and unconscious into the rising, chuckling water.Mary Bell did not think of the dance now. But she thought of rest;of rest in the warm safety of her own home. She thought of the sunnydooryard, the delicious security of the big kitchen; of her mother,so placid and so infinitely dear, on her couch; of the serenecomings and goings of neighbors and friends. How wonderful it allseemed! Lights, laughter, peace,--just to be back among them again,and to rest!And she was going away from it all, into the blackness. Her lanternglimmered,--went out. Mary Bell's cramped fingers let it fall. Herheart pounded with fear of the inky dark.She clung to the fence with both arms, panting, resting. And whileshe hung there, through rain and wind, across darkness and space,she heard a voice, a gallant, sturdy little voice, desperatelycalling,--"Jim! Ji-i-m!"Like an electric current, strength surged through Mary Bell."O God! You've saved 'em, you've got 'em safe!" she sobbed, plungingfrantically forward. And she shouted, "All right--all right,darling! Hang on, boys! Just hang on! Hal-lo, there! Billy! Davy!Here I am!"Down in pools, up again, laughing, crying, shouting, Mary Bellreached them at last, felt the heavenly grasp of hard little handsreaching for hers in the dark, brushed her face against Billy Carr'swet little cheek, and flung her arm about Davy Henderson's squareshoulders. They had been shouting and calling for two long hours,not ten feet from the fence.Incoherent, laughing and crying, they clung together. Davy was alertand brave, but the smaller boy was heavy with sleep."Gee, it's good you came!" said Davy, simply, over and over."You've got your boots on!" she shouted, close to his ear; "they'retoo heavy! We've got a long pull back, Davy,--I think we ought to gostocking feet!""Shall we take off our coats, too?" he said sensibly.They did so, little Billy stumbling as Mary Bell loosened his handsfrom the fence. They braced the little fellow as well as they could,and by shouted encouragement roused him to something likewakefulness."Is Jim coming?" he shouted.Mary Bell assented wildly. "Start, Davy!" she urged. "We'll keep himbetween us. Right along the fence! What is it?" For he had stopped."The other fellers?" he said pitifully.She told him that they were safe, safe at the fire, and she couldhear him break down and begin to cry with the first real hope thatthe worst was over."We're going to get out of this, ain't we?" he said over and over.And over and over Mary Bell encouraged him."Just one more good spurt, Davy! We'll see the fire any minute now!"In wind and darkness and roaring water, they struggled along. Thetide was coming in fast. It was up to Mary Bell's knees; she wasalmost carrying Billy."What is it, Davy?" she shouted, as he stopped again."Miss Mary Bell, aren't we going toward the river!" he shouted back.The sickness of utter despair weakened the girl's knees. But for amoment only. Then she drew the elder boy back, and made him passher. Neither one spoke."Remember, they may come to meet us!" she would say, when Davyrested spent and breathless on the rail. The water was pushing abouther waist, and was about his armpits now; to step carelessly into apool would be fatal. Billy she was managing to keep above water byletting him step along the middle rail, when there was a middlerail. They made long rests, clinging close together."They ain't ever coming!" sobbed Davy, hopelessly. "I can't go nofarther!"Mary Bell managed, by leaning forward, to give him a wet slap, fullin the face. The blow roused the little fellow, and he bravelystumbled ahead again."That's a darling, Davy!" she shouted. A second later somethingfloating struck her elbow; a boy's rubber boot. It was perhaps themost dreadful moment of the long fight, when she realized that theywere only where they had started from.Later she heard herself urging Davy to take just ten steps more,--just another ten. "Just think, five minutes more and we're safe,Davy!" some one said. Later, she heard her own voice saying, "Well,if you can't, then hang on the fence! Don't let go the fence!" Thenthere was silence. Long after, Mary Bell began to cry, and saidsoftly, "God, God, you know I could do this if I weren't carryingBilly." After that it was all a troubled dream.She dreamed that Davy suddenly said, "I can see the fire!" and that,as she did not stir, he cried it again, this time not so near. Shedreamed that the sound of splashing boots and shouting came downacross the dark water, and that lights smote her eyelids with sharppain. An overwhelming dread of effort swept over her. She did notwant to move her aching body, to raise her heavy head. Somebody'sarm braced her shoulders; she toppled against it.She dreamed that Jim Carr's voice said, "Take the kid, Sing! He'sall right!" and that Jim Carr lifted her up, and shouted out, "She'salmost gone!"Then some one was carrying her across rough ground, across smoothground, to where there was a fire, and blankets, and voices--voices--voices."It makes me choke!" That was Mary Bell Barber, whispering to JimCarr. But she could not open her eyes."But drink it, dearest! Swallow it!" he pleaded."You were too late, Jim, we couldn't hold on!" she whisperedpitifully. And then, as the warmth and the stimulant had theireffect, she did open her eyes; and the fire, the ring of faces, theblack sky, and the moon breaking through, all slipped into place."Did you come for us, Jim?" she murmured, too tired to wonder whythe big fellow should cry as he put his face against hers."I came for you, dear! I came back to sit with you on the steps. Ididn't want to dance without my girl, and that's why I'm here. Mybrave little girl!"Mary Bell leaned against his shoulder contentedly."That's right; you rest!" said Jim. "We're all going home now, andwe'll have you tucked away in bed in no time. Mrs. Bates is allready for you!""Jim," whispered Mary Bell."Darling?"--he put his mouth close to the white lips."Jim, will you remind Aunty Bates to hang up my party dress realcarefully? In all the fuss some one's sure to muss it!" said MaryBell.
zpostcode
Recruit
weather
mreligion
Yellowpages
sport
constellation
shopping
name
game
directory
literature
Word
tour
furnish
Lottery
tftnews
lyrics
News
digital
car
dir
Edu
Finance
