144 Fairy Tales

“What ave you crying for, you two?”
said Barthel impatiently. “Oh, just look,
what a pace the water comes at! I wonder
whether the fire is put out, and what the
old clock thinks of it? Oh, don’t I just
wish I was there. Come, Joan, let us make
haste!”

“But we can’t get across,” sobbed his
sister.

“Of course we can. What a silly you
are! I am going to carry you on my
back.”

Joan only sobbed the more.

“Voucan’t, youcan’t! You'll be drowned!”

“Then you stay here, and I'll go by myself
and get some one,” said the boy stoutly, but
before he had gone many steps Joan was
clutching his jacket, and he was glad to
stagger back, for the flow of the current
was enough to sweep away a grown man,
much more a little fellow like Barthel. In
another moment he would certainly have
been whirled off his legs, and as for his
mother, she was screaming and frantically