Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/85

 ‘Tippy! oh, Tip! are you dead?’. . . Never a sound or a sigh! Tuck held his breath, his heart heavy as lead: Then: ‘Tuck! where are you? I've hurted my head!’ Came up the quav’ring reply; And a cry: ‘Oh, Tuck! don't go ’way, or I’ll die!

‘Tuck! It’s so dark; I’m afraid!’. . . He drew down his eyebrows and frowned Up the creek, down the creek, somewhat dismayed. Miles to go home; but, again, if he stayed, How would they ever be found Underground In that cavern that swallowed all sound?

‘Tuck, I'm all covered with blood!' Sobbed the small voice without cess. ‘Why don't you help me up out of the mud?’ Tuck foraged out a long length of pine wood; Stripped off his little print dress, And—just guess! Rigged a white flag of distress!

Truly the depth was not great— That, though, the babe did not know; Lowering himself till the whole of his weight Hung on the fingers that clutched the blue slate. . . ‘Please God!’. . . he let himself go; And I trow That angel hands caught him below.