“When she comes,” thought Dotty, “I’ll tell her she’s ’shamed herself!”

At first it seemed as if Abby were answering her; but the sound proved to be only the echo of Dotty’s own voice.  O, she might scream all the afternoon, and Abby wouldn’t try to hear!  O, dear; before anybody would come, a bear, or a wolf, or a whale might rush right out of the woods and eat her up!  Then how Abby would cry!  Abby’s mother would whip her with a big stick, and say, “there, now; what made you go behind the trees, and let that little Parlin girl lose herself, and get ate up!  I don’t think you’re very polite, you naughty girl!”—­O, how everybody would cry!

But what was that little funny thing on the water?  Forgetting her sudden fear of bears and whales, a fear which Abby herself had put into her little head, Dotty gazed at the “funny thing.”  Could it be a little truly sailboat?  Yes, it certainly was.  How it got into the creek Dotty never stopped to think; the question was, how could she get it out?

She blew it with her breath, but it only floated farther away.  She waited, hoping it would turn about, and come towards her.  She threw sticks at it, but in vain.  The boys, who had set it sailing had gone into the woods for raspberries, would have laughed to see her efforts.  Presently she took off her hat, held it by one string, and flung it in, as if it had been a fishing-net.  It was all of no use; the boat acted as if it were alive, and did not choose to be caught.

Dotty had forgotten all about Abby and the visit to aunt Martha’s.

“I know what I’ll do,” thought she, winking very fast.  “I’ll catch that boat; I will!”

When Dotty had made up her mind, she never stopped for trifles.  She drew off her stockings and gaiters, and stepped into the creek.  Boys waded in the water, why couldn’t she?  There was nothing to bite her!  She wasn’t afraid!

She had supposed the water would only cover her feet, but she found herself sadly mistaken.  The creek was remarkably deep, and, more than that, the bottom was so soft that she sank down, down, at every step.

Poor child!  It was hard enough to get lost; it was harder still to be drowned!

“O, papa!” she screamed; “O, mamma!  O, Prudy! can’t you come?  I don’t want to drown, and not have you drown, Prudy.  Can’t you come, somebody come!”

But there were no human ears near enough to hear her piteous cries.  She must have drowned—­there is no doubt of it—­if Zip had not been close at hand.  The moment he saw her sinking, he gave a low bark and swam after her.

Before he could reach the unfortunate child the water was up to her waist, and she was wringing her little helpless hands, and saying, “Now I lay me down to sleep!”

Faithful old Zip lost not a moment, but seized her skirts and dragged her to the bank, laying her on the ground as tenderly as her own mother could have done.