Beth felt that her hair must be standing up on end. She would have run away, had not pride detained her--and then the recital rather fascinated her. Harvey continued, relishing the effect of his story: "Now I have only to whistle to have the awful animal appear. His head will slowly rise above the water. His jaws will open. His teeth will gleam. If any little girl cries, he will snap at her, and it will be good-bye girl. Now, if you are not a fraid-cat you'll say, 'Harvey Baker, whistle.'" She wanted to run more than ever, but instead she repeated slowly: "Harvey Baker, whistle." The boy pursed up his lips, but he then made an impressive pause, and finally pointed his finger at Beth. "Elizabeth Davenport, remember. If you give the least little bit of a cry, you die. But, if you keep perfectly still, and never tell what you see, I am your friend for life." Thereupon he whistled very shrilly. Beth's eyes were glued upon the water. Every little ripple seemed to her excited imagination an awful head rising to gobble her up. However, nothing appeared. Beth gave a sigh of relief. "Harvey Baker, you were fooling." He motioned to her to be silent. Again, he whistled. Still no horrible head appeared. Beth was now fully convinced that he was only making believe, but still she could not take her eyes off the water. For the third time, Harvey whistled. Suddenly the waters parted. There, right below them, was a head more fearful than anything Beth had imagined. There was no doubt of the reality of this fearful apparition. The jaws and teeth that Harvey had spoken about were even worse than he had predicted. Slowly, slowly, those loathsome jaws parted. Beth looked down into that awful gulf, like a great dark pit, opening to receive her. There were the two rows of gleaming white teeth ready to devour girls who screamed. How she kept from screaming she never knew. Perhaps she was too much paralyzed with fear. However, she kept so still that she hardly breathed. The color ebbed out of her face. Harvey picked up some meat that lay on the wharf beside him, and threw that and the bread into the waiting mouth below. The jaws snapped together, and opened again as suddenly. Beth shuddered a little, involuntarily. She wondered if she would have disappeared as quickly as the meat if she had screamed. Harvey had no more food for the animal below. It waited an instant, then slowly sank. The waters closed where the head had been. Beth felt as though she were wakening from a horrible nightmare. "Three cheers for Beth," cried Harvey so unexpectedly that she gave a great start. "Was it a dragon?" asked Beth with her eyes unnaturally big. He laughed. "A dragon---- No, indeed. It's only a 'gator." "A 'gator---- Would it really have eaten me if I had screamed?"