ad a
soul-yearning, even more powerful than that of the old well. But he had
been sworn, bribed, placed upon his honor and threatened with dire
tortures, should he even venture nearer the river than the top of the
hill.

The yearning would not down. It grew in intensity. He would stand on the
front rail of his trundle bed, night and morning, with arms extended
above him, palms together, to dive, to split the imaginary water, take a
header into the soft, downy tick; then thresh his arms about in swimming
fashion as he had seen the big boys cavort in the river.

Nearer and nearer to the river his newest allurement carried him, until
one day he found himself on a strange path leading into a large yard in
which stood a neat, white house, with green blinds. Purling at his feet,
bubbling from an invisible source, was a brook of clear, cold water.
Very cold it felt to his bare feet as he waded up and down over it's
sandy, pebbly bed, the water reaching barely to his ankles. Wading
nearer to the fountain head, the depth gradually increased. Here was
young hopeful's long-sought-for opportunity to dive, swim and otherwise
disport himself as did the big boys. Off came pantalets, waist and
undercoverings, through the pure, cold water he waded. With teeth
chattering and flesh quivering, holding his hands above his head, under
he went.

He was having the time of his life, and so busy was he at it that his
attention was not attracted by the opening of a door in the nearby white
house and the sudden appearance of an elderly, grim-looking woman behind
a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles; brandishing a long, swinging buggy
whip, with broad, bright bands here and there along its length. Rushing
toward the boy, she angrily shouted:

"You little scamp, I'll skin ye alive!"

"Al-f-u-r-d," with a cry, bounded from the water, grabbed for his
clothes, missed them, and started on a race at a pace that left no doubt
as to the winner. A big dog and another elderly woman--the counterpart
of her-behind-the-spectacles--joined in the chase, the dog's deep bays
greatly accelerating the already beat-all-record-time of the terrified
"Al-f-u-r-d."

As he neared the parental roof, he let out a series of yells with
"Mother!" "Lin!" "Help!" "Murder!" sandwiched between. The nearer he
drew, the louder the yelps, for he knew he would need sympathy, even
though the gold-rimmed glasses and the other elderly pursuer had been
distanced by many lengths.

Lin