Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1875-04-01
heard uncle say it was dangerous.

heaiu uneio o"J ~ ~
don't!" 49,.
"I wouldn't, Maurice-just for that dog I"
exclaimed Joe, and the others joined in ex-
postulation, Carry declaring that it was better
for twenty dogs to drown than for him to risk
his safety.
"Theres an a,gt,ll snag right there, know,
cause was in a boat one day and we nit it,
said Charley. Maurice needed none of them; !;
he had already plunged into the river, and
was rapidly making his way to the spot where
only Fidos head and his two fore-paws were
visible above the surface. 1t ,uas dangerous
place. and he knew it, for it was right there
that Mr.. Fielding had often cautioned him
against going, and he steered carefully to
avoid the current on the one hand, and the
sharp rocks. scattered near the line of the
shore, on the other. If Alice had not been
able to look before, it was doubly impossible
now She hurried off to distance and threw
herself down under tree, shivering with ex-
citement and fear and stopping up her ears
in dread of what she might hear. Maurice
in danger-Maurice risking his life, and to
save her dog! 1t Was t1o much.
Presently she heard shout, a chorus OF
mingled voices, penetrating dlmy into her
hearing. She ventured to remove her hands,
still without looking, and the tones, she found,
were those of JOY and triumph. Maurice was
safe, and Fido was safe The brave boy had
succeeded in grasping the little animal, just
as he was sinking, and had brought him, weak
and trembling, but alive, back to his mistress
feet. Words failed Alice She tried to thank
him, but the rush of mingled relief, thankful
ness and joy, was too great for her, and she
burst into passion of tears.
"Well, if you ANITA queer one!" exclaimed
Joe. "Who ever heard of crying about such
thing as tbat?"
you'd better laugh instead of crying"
said Charley. "Fido isn't dead; he's all right,
amt he, brother?'
eyes, he's all right" said Maurice, who
understood better than they did Alice's vio-
lent burst ofemotion, though even he was un.
aware of the depth of feeling whence it took
its source. He thought she was crying for
JOY at getting her little favorite back, and
did not guess that the largest share of her
agitation arose from her intense gratitude tor
his safety. He did not desire to be thanked;
it was enough for him that he had performed
a good action, and saved his little cousin from
distress, and he walked quietly off to wiring
the water from his hair and clothes, and re-
sumo the outer coverings herhad cast off. At
ter this adventure it was deemed expedient to
return home as quickly as possible, and they
were soon on their way to the farm. On ar
irving there, Maurice slipped in by the back
gate to avoid "a fuss" but of course his broth
ers and dsisters were not slow to proclaim what
had occurred, and to boast of his prowess to
their mother. Mrs. Fielding was excited and
indignant; "she'd never heard of such folly
in her life-she did think Maurice had more
sense Things were come to a pretty pass
when folks went risking their lives for the
sake of a worthless little beast that wasn't of
any account" When Maurice made his ap.
pearance the tide of her anger was turned
against him, but he took it very good-humor-
edly. "It was quite nice swim," he said,
smiling, "and really he didn't believe the
place was so dangerous. Anyhow it was not
worth while talking about, now that it was
over; and it was not likely to happen again"
AS for Alice, she had disappeared with her
rescued pet, and was seen no more that after
noon.
Just about dusk, as Maurice was out in the
back shed whistling and chopping away at a
wedge for the kitchen.door, he heard gentle
footstep approaching, and looking up, saw
Alice standing at his shoulder.
"Well, little one!" he said, pleasantly, shows
Fido now?"
"Quite WE'LL Oh Maurice
"Well ?" he said again as she paused.
81 want to tell you--" her voice trembed.
II can't tell you how much obliged to you |
am-for what you did to-day. haven't had
a chance of telling you before"
"Oh that's nothing! I tell you what,
Ally, don't let's talk any more about that lit
tie business because you see" he continued,
sinking his voice to a confidential whisper,
"everybody makes too much fuss about it, and
that's Just what don't like
81 won't make any fuss, said Alice, "but |
feel it more than l can tell you. And [
couldn't bear that you should put yourself in
such danger" for me- she was going to add,
but feeling of shyness restrained her.
"Oh nonsense" said Maurice, lightly. 81
say, Alice, won't you run into the kitchen and
bring me fathers small hatchet off the shelf;
this old knife is of no use"
Alice gladly obeyed, only too happy to be
of any service to him; and 80 the subject
ended But the memory of Maurices brave
and kind action was indelibly impressed on
her heart, and he little guessed to what
pinnacle she mentally elevated him, or how
intense was the admiration, almost reverence,
in which she held him thenceforth. Maurice
would have smiled, no doubt, had he discov.
cred her feelings il. regard to him. He looked
upon her with the affectionate, but halfpa-
tronizng superiority which big brother is
apt to feel for little, timid sister; and while
he would have put himself to considerable
trouble to promote her happiness, and took
sincere pleasure in doing all he could to make
her cheerful and contented, he would have
derived unfeigned amusement from the idea
that she not only invested him with all the
heroic attributes of knight Of romance, but
was secretly resolved that, neither now or in
future years, should any one ever be her
knight but himself What mattered it if she
were scarcely ten years old, and he but ff-
teen? Alice had read enough Of poetry and
fiction to imbue her mind with romantic ideas,
and she thought it quite as natural and rea-
sonahle for her to have hero and worship
him in secret, as if she had been any one of
the "fayre damosel" or captive princesses Of
whom she delighted to read
This imaginative turn of mind though not
the most wholesome in the world, was a great
resource to her when the holidays we're over
and "the boys" gone. She again withdrew
into herself, though not as entirely as before,
for the children had got used to her company
and liked to have her, and would sit by the
hour and weave fctons and dreams of pos
sibIe future, coored with the brightest tints
of fancy. Sometimes these thoughts would
be transferred to paper, in prose- poetry or