TANGLEFOOT
A SUFFICIENT time having elapsed since dinner, we decided to go in
swimming again; at least the Tuckers decided to and all of us followed
suit (bathing suit!). Aunt Milly was becoming accustomed to the ways of
her charges and gave her gracious consent when we humbly asked it. She
even stopped rolling her eyes at Shorty when she saw that Harvie was not
injured, after all, and that he himself bore no malice towards his
friend.
Mary, too, had something to do with mollifying the old woman. She went
and sat on the sand bank by her side and explained to her how the battle
royal started and what fun it had been. Of course ever since the circus,
Mary had been a great favorite with all the servants. They looked upon
her as a real celebrity. Mary had so many stunts and was always so
willing to amuse persons that she was constantly being called on to do
her dog fight or get off a feat of ventriloquism or something else.
"Aunt Milly, if you forgive poor Mr. Hawkins for bloodying up Mr.
Harvie, I'll go like a little pig caught under the gate for you."
"Lawsamussy, chil', kin you do that?"
"Sure! Will you forgive him if I do it?"
"Lemme hear you do it fust an' I'll see," said Aunt Milly with a sly
look. She was getting too much capital out of the grudge she had against
Shorty to give it up too readily.
So Mary went through all the agony of a little pig caught under the gate
and even improved upon it to the extent of introducing another character
into the act: she went like two pigs caught under the gate.
Aunt Milly sat in her sand hole entranced.
"Well, bless Bob! If it ain't it to the life! How you do it, honey?" So
Mary had to do it once more and then Aunt Milly promised to forgive and
forget.
"Come on and help clear up the remains of the feast, Mary," insisted
Dum, who was ever determined that there should be no shirkers.
"I'm busy mollifying," declared Mary. "My talents lie more in this
direction," and she could not help mimicking Jessie Wilcox just enough
to give Dum the dry grins. Jessie had not helped at all about luncheon
but had insisted that Aunt Milly should be made to do whatever we had
the hardihood to suggest that she might do. Aunt Milly, however, having
been told that she was to do no "wuck," did none, and presented a duck
back to all insinuations from the haughty Jessie.
"I don't care where your talents lie," insisted Dum, "you are going to
come help clear these dishes off the cloth so I can fold it up."
Mary began to sing to a catchy tune this music-hall ballad:
"I want to be a actress, a actress, a actress,
I tell you I won't live and die a common serving gal.
I feel I've got the natur'
To act in a the-a-ter,
I'm just the kind of stuff to make a star profession-a-l-l."
"Well, now ain't she cute?" and Aunt Milly shook her fat sides with
laughter. "She ain't ter say purty but she is sho' got a way wid her.
She ain't so handsome as some but she gonter keep her takin' ways til'
Kingdom Come, whilst some folks what ain't nothin' but purty won' hab
nothin' lef' a tall whin the las' trump soun's. I ain't a got no
'jections ter purty folks,--now that there little Miss Annie Po' is sho'
sweet lookin' an' sweet tas'in', too, but she is wuth somethin' sides.
But some ain't." A glance of her rolling eyes in the direction of Jessie
gave us to understand who "some" meant.
Jessie and Wink were having a most desperate flirtation. He had not left
her side a moment during the whole day. Jessie glanced occasionally in
my direction with a little exultant toss of her head as much as to say:
"See, miss, I've got your beau!" She was more than welcome to him, but I
didn't think it kind to lessen her delight in her conquest, so I did my
best to make her happy by sighing deeply every time I caught her looking
at me.
The pleasure of going in swimming is going in again, so as I said
before, as soon as a reasonable time had elapsed since our very filling
dinner we again retired to our several tree-formed bath-houses and
donned our suits for a farewell dip.
"No more fights now!" commanded Zebedee sternly, just as though he had
not been among the mighty warriors of the last fray.
Tweedles promptly caught him and gave him a good ducking until he yelled
for mercy and help from Aunt Milly, but that model chaperone had gone
off to sleep again and was deaf to his cries.
"That's what you get for being Mr. Tuckerish," declared Dum.
Jessie Wilcox was a good swimmer but was determined not to get her hair
wet, so had not entered very largely into our water sports. Tweedles and
Mary and I had lost our bathing caps in the great naval battle, and
since our heads were already wet, we decided to get them wetter and let
our hair dry on the trip home. As for Annie, getting her feet wet was
about all she could make up her mind to do, although her coils of
honey-colored hair got a little damp. She would take shuddering steps
into the water and when she got about knee-deep would lie down and go
through the motions of swimming with one foot on the bottom. She had
really learned to keep up on top of the water at Willoughby the summer
before, but now had lost all confidence in herself and was content just
to paddle around in the shallows.
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 Cox 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 Wilcox
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 shore;
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 Massie 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.
Sleepy had grasped Annie, who was now engulfed up to her knees. Of
course he was about the worst person among us to have got first to her
rescue because of his great weight. He gave a tremendous pull, grasping
Annie around her waist. She came out of the sand making a noise like a
whole drove of cattle lifting their hoofs out of the mud. Annie was
perfectly limp with fright. She clung to George Massie like some little
panic-stricken child.
The frantic Rags reached the sand bar immediately behind Sleepy, and
Harvie swam him a close second. The water was quite deep within a few
feet of the fatal spot that the innocent Annie had chosen as the best
place to dry her hair. The beach of quicksand shelved suddenly into
swimming depth. As Harvie and Rags stepped from this swimming hole into
shallow water they realized that they, too, had hurled themselves into
danger. They stuck fast.
Annie clung desperately to George. Her eyes were closed and she was so
pale I thought she must have fainted. It was a few moments before the
rest of the party realized that the three youths were being slowly
sucked down. They knew it, however, from the moment they touched the
bar.
"Throw Annie out into the water!" said Harvie hoarsely. Annie had not
fainted as I had thought, for at these words she clung so desperately to
poor Sleepy that he could not loose her hands.
Harvie reached over and unclasped them, holding them tightly until
Sleepy could raise her up farther in his arms to throw her.
"Float, Annie! You can float!" shouted Dee. "Do as I tell you!"
Annie, ever inclined to obedience, spread her arms out as she struck the
water and floated off as neatly as some well-built yacht launched for
the first time. Of course the others grabbed her as soon as she got to
them.
By this time Zebedee and I had the little brown boat to the rescue. We
came alongside the poor stick-in-the-muds.
"Take Sleepy first!" cried the other two. "He's in worse than we are."
Taking Sleepy first was no joke. He had sunk at least a foot and a half.
Zebedee tugged at him and Sleepy tugged at himself. The little boat
almost capsized and still the young giant could not pull his feet out of
the treacherous mire.
"You are not in far, Rags; come on and help trim the boat," I insisted,
paddling the stern around in reach of Rags. He caught hold and with a
quick spring was in the boat.
"Now, Harvie!" I commanded. "We can't get Sleepy unless you come help."
I knew perfectly well that Harvie had a notion he must not get in the
boat until his friend was saved. In the meantime, Zebedee was
struggling to raise Sleepy and the boat was in sad need of ballast.
Harvie did as I bade him and with a mighty effort extricated himself and
landed in the boat. The legs of both the boys were covered with mire up
to their knees.
All the time we were doing this, the rest of the party was not idle. Of
course some of them had to look after the frightened Annie. Dum and
Billy Somers had struck out immediately for the red boat which was
beached on the far side of the island, realizing as they soon did that
the only way to get the boys out of the quicksand was by boat. Mary and
Shorty also made for the canoe, thinking it might be needed, too.
Glad we were when the red boat came alongside of ours and we could lash
them together to make more purchase for Sleepy. The little brown boat
did not have weight enough to do the job alone. And now with a long pull
and a strong pull and a pull all together, we at last got him out.
If when Annie got her feet out of the sand she made a noise like a
drove of cattle lifting their hoofs out of the mud, you can fancy what
the noise was when Sleepy came out. It was like a great ground swell,
and so much water had that young giant displaced, when he removed his
bulk I am sure the depth of the creek was perceptibly lowered.
Now it was all over we could giggle, which Dum and I did until Zebedee
got really outdone with us and threatened to box us both. It had been a
close shave and he felt it was not a time for giggling, but Dum and I
were no respecters of time or place. When the giggles struck us, giggle
we must.
"If it had not been for your quickness, Page, it might have been a very
serious tragedy," he said solemnly. "I never thought of the boats but
was going to swim to Annie's assistance."
"I have seen this quicksand before. I almost lost one of my dogs several
years ago. He started out in the creek to get a stick I had thrown for
him and as soon as he touched the sand he began to sink. I never heard
such cries as he gave trying to pull his feet out. I got two fence-rails
and crawled out to him and pulled him in. Father nearly had a fit when I
told him about it. He sent men down and had the creek dredged."
"I think we should put a sign up here," said Harvie, and a few days
later he did paint "Danger" on a sign and came back to Croxton's Ford
and planted it at the fatal spot.
It had been a very trying experience, but young people don't brood over
things that might have been serious. That is something left to the
so-called philosophy of old age. By the time we were in dry clothes and
on our way home, the fact that some of our party had been in a fair way
to losing their lives seemed something to be joked about.
Of course poor Sleepy came in for his share, but much he cared. He
stretched himself at Annie's feet, and possessing himself of a little
corner of her sweater, which he clutched tightly in his great hand just
as a little baby might cling to its mother's dress, he dropped off into
a sleep of exhaustion. He looked very peaceful and happy as he lay there
and Annie looked down on his handsome head with affection and admiration
in her blue eyes.
"I know one thing," announced Rags; "I'll never see sticky fly-paper
again without thinking of this day. I felt exactly like a poor fly stuck
fast in tanglefoot. I am sure my legs are a foot longer than they were
when I left Maxton this morning." As Ben Raglan's legs were abnormally
long, we all devoutly hoped that the stretching was not permanent.
Proportioned somewhat like a clothes-pin, he could not stand much
lengthening of limb.
"Shorty, it's too bad you weren't first aid man this time," teased
Harvie. "It might have made a man of you. All you need is a good
stretching."
"Wait until I get you where Aunt Milly can't help you and I'll give you
the pounding you need," answered the boy, as he paddled the canoe in the
wake of the launch.
Aunt Milly was comfortably ensconced in the seat of honor, sleeping the
sleep of the just and generous chaperone.