Publisher's Synopsis
"Help! Some ob yo' folks ahead, dar! Unc' Tawm's in de ruvver! He drapped de box, an' went in afteh hit head first lak er frawg. He's drowndin', he sholey is! By golly! Legree! Eliza! Come back hyeh dis minyit! Unc' Tawm's drowndin'!" Topsy was making a terrific commotion. While she screeched for help she ran circles on the river-bank, tossing her hands wildly. If she had put some of her aimless energy into helping Uncle Tom, the kinky-headed old negro in the water would have been a whole lot better off. He was floundering and thrashing and making a good deal of noise himself. "Hit's ovah mah haid!" he spluttered. "Ah's done got de crampus en mah lef' laig an' Ah's monsus bad off! Bl-r-r-r! Dat's twicet Ah's gawn down, en de nex' time Ah's gwine down tuh stay. Doan' put yo'se'f out none-doan' scramble so ha'd yo' lose yo' bref. Hit's only a coon whut's drowndin', so take yo' time gittin' hyeh an'--" Uncle Tom swallowed a bucket of water, more or less, just then, and his language was submerged. "Mercy sakes!" cried Eliza breathlessly, hurrying back through the brush, closely tagged by Little Eva and Legree. "Do something, somebody! Oh, I wish we had a rope. Hang onto the box, Uncle Tom," she added encouragingly; "we'll get you out!"
