The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1886-11-30

All stared wnIther her hand pointed.
Look lookr' she shouted. ''It's
Willy-Willy WinkieI He's-he's
gone too fart He's drowningr'
1t was terribly true. The bank must
have shelyed with fearful steepness,
and some sort of treacherous circular
current, silent and deadly, had carried
the poor child of into the dusk waters
beyond. Both his arms were raised /
can see his piteous little white face I'M
der his flossy golden hair now. Is it
fell backward in the agony of his woe
full peril! / tore off my coat. Two or
three of the larger boys did the same.
None of us could swim, but there is q
kind of call, at times like these, that
rings right through the soul of the
stronger life when it sees the weaker
life perishing. i don't know what
would have happened. | don't know
which of us would have struck out
first. 1t would have been death TO
more than one of us, | think, if the
thing that did happen had nr- hap
pened.
But now we all drew back, thrilled by
one impulse, one feeling. For along
the fallen tree (Which was just above
WHY'S sinking form. vet, ah, so pite-
ou>ly far from it) hurried a slender,
swift, girlish shape.
Its Millyr' cried some body. And
then we all waited. with kind of awe.
We were too far away from her to
help her: we all realized that. She had,
by some chance. been up ON the turfy
mound near the gnarled and bcdded
roots of the tree. She had seen; she
had acted, without IN instant of hest
tation. And she did act now, with d
speed and self-command that made all
our hearts swell in our breasts as we
watched her. She was clinging to the
tree just above the spot where Willy
was struggling. Between herself and
Willy were four good feet-scarcely
more. But unless some thing could
bridge those four feet death to the
drowning boy was certain. 1t seemed
to us, for second or two, SIS if her fir
gers were wrestling with some ugly
prong of the tree that had stopped her
course. Then we saw that she had been
knotting the end of q cord there; and
then. as the cord itself was flung down.
ward, we realized that it was Milly's
skippiDg-rope-
Catch the end, Willy we heard
her cry to the sinking boy whom she
had always loved so fondly. lit will
hold you-I'm sure il will There
have YOU got it2 Hold fast! 1t won't
break. The other end is up here with
me. i won't let il loose, Hold fast
now-that's rightr'
And then, as the little seven-year-old
shape chung to rope stout enough to
have held it for hours, hilly turned
her white face towards us and cried. in
such different voice-sO full of sharp,
ordering briskness'
run, boys. for one of the drivers!
1t will be all right till some one gets
here who can swimm
i darted away, and four or five of the
boys after me. Perhaps six minutes
had elapsed between the time that
Willy first clutched the wooden handle
of Milly's skipping-rope and the time
that Reuben Haires, a stout, broad
shouldered lad who could swim per-
fectly, had caught the child i'm his arms
and landed him, with hardly an effort,
on the near bank.
Of course Milly was heroine after
,hat Leila Lindsay flung both arms
about her neck and sobbed for pardon
on her shoulder. gave her kind of
brotherly hug, feeling dismally en-
barraSsed az | did so. AS for mother,
she just took the frail form of her dear
one in her arms and held it there for
minute or two; and then, during all
the rest of that afternoon, her eyes
sparkled in a way / had never seen
them sparkle before. There was pride
i'm them, and a certain kind of triumph
as well: but there was also the light of 4,
great thankfulness, as / could see
when her gaze dwelt on Willy mother,
with both arms about her rescued dar-
ling's neck. As Milly grew older, all
her paltry terrors vanished, one by
one. But mother has always kept the
skipping-rope, reverently stored away
with few other treasured relics
Edgar Faucet, in Youths Companion.