Part 8 (1/2)
”I'm going down the bank to see.”
The others followed Geraldine, and swung themselves down to the water level. Sitting under the arch formed by the roots of the tree was a small boy of about seven, rubbing two swimming eyes with two grimy little fists and sobbing l.u.s.tily.
”Hallo! What's the matter here?” said Geraldine briskly. ”Where do you come from, and why don't you go home? Are you lost?”
At the mention of ”home” the little fellow's tears redoubled, and the whimper rose to a roar. Ida sat down on the rock beside him, and tried to comfort him. It was a difficult process to get any coherent or sensible replies to her questions, but after considerable coaxing, and a last piece of chocolate which Wendy fortunately fished from her pocket, she managed to wring from him that his name was Harry, that he lived at a farm on the other side of the torrent, that he had come down to the river with several other boys, and that they had dared him to cross by the fallen tree. Once over, he was too frightened to go back, and, after waiting and calling to him for some time, the other boys had run away.
How was he going to get home?
The situation was difficult, for there was no bridge across the river for many miles. Unless the child could go back the way he had come, it was a problem what was to be done.
”You were a silly boy ever to try to cross,” said Geraldine sententiously.
”They said I durstn't!” sobbed the small sinner.
”Oh, don't scold him!” pleaded Diana. ”I do know so exactly how he felt.
I've often been dared to do things myself, and done them, though I s.h.i.+vered.”
”Well, you'd surely never do such a silly thing as cross that tree?”
[Ill.u.s.tration: TWO PAIRS OF BARE FEET WENT SPLAs.h.i.+NG JOYOUSLY INTO THE BROOK]
”Wouldn't I? I believe I'm going to do it now.”
”Diana!”
”He's got to get home somehow. Look here, Harry!”--Diana knelt on the pebbles, and put her arm round the little blue-jerseyed figure--”suppose I were to go too, would you dare to cross again? We'd both crawl on our hands and knees.”
The sobs stopped, while Harry took a swift survey of her face.
Apparently he found it satisfactory.
”If you'll go first,” he stammered.
”Then come along--we've no time to waste,” said Diana, springing up and giving him her hand.
”Diana! You surely don't mean----” began Geraldine in eager remonstrance.
”Yes, I do!” interrupted Diana. ”I've done worse things before, and I'm not scared. Come on, Harry! We'll have you home in forty cracks.”
The girls did not attempt to interfere. They stood and watched while Diana hauled the little boy up the bank. Perhaps each secretly wished she were capable of such a piece of pluck. Though the tree was tall enough to span the stream, its bole seemed very narrow to form a bridge, and the rounded surface made it all the more slippery; the few branches here and there were of little help. Diana hoisted up her protege, then going in front of him began to crawl across on her hands and knees, speaking to him all the time, so as to encourage him to follow her.
Beneath them the water foamed and roared over the rocks: to slip would mean to be whirled into the depths of a dark pool below. It was a slow progress, but inch by inch they crept along till the most dangerous part was pa.s.sed, and they had reached comparative safety. The girls cheered when at last Diana scrambled to her feet and lifted Harry on to dry ground. A path led up the side of the gorge, and along this he set off at full speed for home. His preserver stood looking after him for a minute or two, and then she turned to re-cross her perilous bridge. Six hands were stretched out to help her as she completed the venturesome journey.
”You're a trump, Di!”
”_I_ daren't have done it!”
”You've been a guardian angel to that child!”
”Was it _very_ awful?”