Part 18 (2/2)

From one side of our large island there stretched a long narrow sand bar. The water just trickled through there, while the great volume of the creek flowed on the other side where we were swimming. There were many shallow spots where Annie could be perfectly safe, but she decided to walk out on the sand bar and there let down her hair and dry it in the sun. Her cavaliers who seldom left her alone for a moment happened to be engaged in some swimming stunts just then, so unattended she crossed the bar and, seating herself on the end of the neck of sand, she let down her beautiful hair and spread it out in the sun.

”Only look at Annie! Isn't she lovely?” whispered Dum to me. ”She looks like a mermaid or a Rhine maiden.”

”Please sing something, Annie!” I called.

”What shall I sing?” laughed Annie, combing her hair with one of her side-combs and peeping at me through its golden glory.

”Anything, so it has water in it!”

Annie's voice had grown in richness and volume since the days at Gresham, although she had had no lessons since that time. She had taken advantage of the teaching she had received from Miss c.o.x and kept up her practicing by herself as best she could. Of course she should have been under some good master, and all of us felt indignant with Mr. Pore that he did not realize this and make some arrangement for his daughter. The outlay of money necessary for her musical education would have been great, but the returns would surely have been fourfold. Everyone who heard Annie sing could not but admire her voice. Even Jessie Wilc.o.x praised it, although that young lady was not inclined to think anybody but herself worthy of compliments.

The lovely thing about Annie was she was always ready to be obliging, and if her singing gave any pleasure, she was perfectly willing to contribute it to the general welfare. She never said she didn't have her music and could not sing without notes; she never gave the excuse of not being able to sing without accompaniment. When Annie sang, her shyness left her. She seemed to forget herself and lose all self-consciousness.

As her clear soprano notes arose on the air, the noisy bathers quieted down and everyone listened.

”On the banks of Allan Water When the sweet spring-time did fall, Was the miller's lovely daughter, Fairest of them all.

For his bride a soldier sought her, And a winning tongue had he, On the banks of Allan Water, None so gay as she.

On the banks of Allan Water When brown autumn spreads his store, There I saw the miller's daughter, But she smiled no more.

For the summer grief had brought her, And the soldier false was he, On the banks of Allan Water, None so sad as she.

On the banks of Allan Water, When the winter's snow fell fast, Still was seen the miller's daughter, Chilling blew the blast.

But the miller's lovely daughter, Both from cold and care was free; On the banks of Allan Water, There a corse lay she.”

”Bully!” exclaimed the audience.

”I'd like to meet that soldier,” muttered Sleepy.

”Please sing some more,” begged Rags.

And so she sang again. Now she stood up, took a few steps, and faced us as we paddled around.

”Look what a big hole Annie made in the sand, almost as big as Aunt Milly's,” whispered Dee to me.

”Yes, the sand must be awfully soft. I'm glad it's not quicksand, though. That's so dangerous.” But what I knew about the dangers of quicksand I kept to myself, as Annie had begun:

”To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er; The wanton water leaps in sport, And rattles down the pebbly sh.o.r.e; The dolphin wheels, the sea-cow's snort, And unseen mermaids' pearly song Comes bubbling up the weeds among----”

And just then a strange thing happened: Annie began to sink. The little sand island she had chosen as a place of refuge where she might dry her hair was evidently only an island in the making, and the sand had not packed down. It was quicksand, but not so quick as it might have been, as she had been on it some minutes before it began to give way under her weight. She looked frightened and tried to pull her one foot up, but it stuck. The last lines of her song were in a fair way to be enacted before our very eyes if haste was not made.

Annie gave a scream and made desperate struggles to extricate herself.

The swimmers all started to her rescue, George Ma.s.sie leading the way, shooting through the water like a shark.

I clutched Zebedee as he went by me. ”Get the little brown boat and I'll help! The sand may be dangerous all around there.”

He was a quick thinker and turned without a word, landed on the big island and I followed. We launched the little brown boat that we had shoved up among the weeds and in a very short time were floating out into deep water. With a few strong strokes of the oars we had arrived at the spot where we were in truth much needed.

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