Wyn's Camping Days Part 23

So by fishing (and none of the old fellows who had fished Honotonka for years was wiser about the good fishing places than Polly) the girl added from one to two dollars every favorable day to the family income.

Sometimes she was off by light in one boat or another; but she did not often come to this northern side of the lake. This cove was at least ten miles from home.

As the last breath of the squall pa.s.sed, the wind veered as she had expected, and Polly, having reeled in her two lines and unjointed the bamboo poles, stowed everything neatly, raised the anchor, or kedge, and set a hand's breadth of the big sail.

The canvas filled, and with the sheet in one hand and the other on the arm of the tiller, the girl steered the catboat out of the cove and into the rumpus kicked up by the pa.s.sing squall.

The girls of the Go-Ahead Club would surely have been frightened had they been aboard the little _Coquette_, as the catboat was named.

She rocked and jumped, and the spume flew over her gunwale in an intermittent shower. But in this sea, which so easily swamped the canoes, the catboat was as safe as a house.

Polly was used to much rougher weather than this. In the summer Lake Honotonka was on its best behavior. At other seasons the tempests tore down from the north and west and sometimes made the lake so terrible in appearance that even the hardiest bateau man in those parts would not risk himself in a boat.

Polly knew, however, that the worst of the squall was over. The lake would gradually subside to its former calm. And the change in the wind was favorable now to a quick pa.s.sage either to the Forge or to her father's tiny landing.

"Can't get any fancy price for the fish at Meade's," thought Polly. "I have a good mind to put them in our trap and try again for Braisely Park to-morrow morning."

As she spoke she was running outside the horns of the cove. She could get a clear sweep now of the lake--as far as it could be viewed from the low eminence of the boat--and she rose up to see it.

"n.o.body out but I," she thought. "Ah! all those folk at the end of the lake ran in when the squall appeared. And the girls and boys over yonder----"

She was peering now across the lake ahead of the _Coquette's_ nose, toward the little island where was Cave-in-the-Wood Camp, and at Green Knoll Camp, where the girls from Denton were staying.

Her face fell as she focused her gaze upon the bit of high, green bank on which the sun was now shining again so brilliantly. She remembered how badly she had been treated by Bess Lavine only that morning.

"I can't go over there any more," she muttered. "That girl will never forget--or let the others forget--that father has been accused of being a thief. It's a shame! A hateful shame! And we're every bit as good as she is----"

Her gaze dropped to the tumbling wavelets between her and the distant green hillock. She was about to resume her seat and catch the tiller, which she had held steady with her knee.

But now her breath left her and for a moment she stood motionless--only giving to the plunge and jump of the _Coquette_ through the choppy waves.

"Ah!" she exclaimed again, after a little intake of breath.

There were two round objects rising and falling in the rough water--and far ahead. They looked like cocoanuts.

But a little to one side was a long, black something--a stick of timber drifting on the current? No! _An overturned boat._

There was no mistaking the cocoanut-like objects. They were human heads.

Two capsized people were struggling in the lake.

Polly, in thirty seconds, was keenly alive to what she must do. There was no time lost in bewailing the catastrophe, or wondering about the ident.i.ty of the castaways.

Who or whatever they were they must be saved. There was not another boat on the lake. And the swimmers were too far from land to be observed under any conditions.

The wind was strong and steady. The wavelets were still choppy, but Polly Jarley never thought of a wetting.

Up went the sail--up, up, up until the unhelmed catboat lay over almost on beam ends. The girl took a sailor's turn of the sheet around the cleat and then swung all her weight against the tiller, to bring the boat's head up. She held the sheet ready to let go if a warning creak from the mast should sound, or the boat refuse to respond.

But in half a minute the _Coquette_ righted. It had been a perilous chance--she might have torn the stick out. The immediate peril was past, however. The great canvas filled. Away shot the sprightly _Coquette_ with the wind--a bone in her teeth.

Now and then she dipped and the spume flew high, drenching Polly. The boatman's daughter was not dressed for this rough work, for she was hatless and wore merely a blouse and old skirt for outside garments. She had pulled off her shoes and stockings while she fished and had not had time to put them on again.

So the flying spray wet her through. She dodged occasionally to protect her eyes from the spoondrift which slatted so sharply across the deck and into the c.o.c.kpit. The water gathered in the bottom of the old boat and was soon ankle-deep.

But Polly knew the craft was tight and that this water could be bailed out again when she had time. Just now her mind and gaze were fixed mainly upon the round, bobbing objects ahead.

For some minutes, although the catboat was traveling about as fast as Polly had ever sailed, save in a power boat, the girl could not be sure whether the swamped voyagers were girls or boys. It might be two of the Busters, from Gannet Island, for all she knew. She had made up her mind that the victims of the accident were from one camp or the other. There were no other campers as yet on the sh.o.r.e at this end of the lake.

Then Polly realized that the heads belonged to girls. She could see the braids floating out behind. And she knew that they were fighting for their lives.

They swam near together; once one of them raised up breast high in the water, as though looking sh.o.r.eward. But neither turned back to see if help was coming from behind.

With both hands engaged with sheet and tiller Polly could not make a megaphone to carry her voice; but several times she shouted as loud as she could:

"Ahoy! Hold on! I'm coming!"

Her voice seemed flung right back into her face--drowned by the slatting spray. How viciously that water stung!

The _Coquette_ was traveling at racing speed; but would she be in time?

How long could those two girls bear up in the choppy sea?

One of the heads suddenly disappeared. Polly shrieked; but she could do nothing to aid.

The spray filled her eyes again and, when she had shaken them free, Polly saw that the other swimmer--the stronger one--had gotten her comrade above the surface once more.

Indeed, this one was swimming on her back and holding up the girl who had gone under. How brave she was!

The sun shone clear upon the two in the water and Polly recognized Wynifred Mallory.

"Wyn! Wynnie! Hold to her! Hold up!" cried the boatman's daughter. "I'll help you!"

But she was still so far away--it seemed as though the catboat never _would_ come within hailing distance. But before she turned over in the water to swim with Bessie's hand upon her shoulder, the captain of the Go-Ahead Club beheld the catboat rushing down upon them.

She could only wave a beckoning hand. She could not cry out. Wyn was well-nigh breathless, and Bessie's only hope was in her. The captain of the canoe club had to save her strength.

Down swooped the catboat. Polly was shouting madly; but not for an instant did she lose control of the boat or ignore the work she had in hand. She wanted to encourage Wyn and the other; but she was taking no chances.

Suddenly she let the sheet run and loosed the halliards. The canvas fluttered down on the deck with a rustle and crash. The catboat sprang to even keel, but shot on under the momentum it had gained in swooping down upon the swamped girls.

"Wyn! hold hard! _I've got you!_"

But it was the other girl Polly grasped. Wyn had turned, thrust the half-drowned Bessie before her, and Polly, leaning over the gunwale of the tossing boat, seized her by the shoulders.

In a moment she heaved up, struggled, dragged the other girl forward, and together rescuer and rescued tumbled flat into the c.o.c.kpit of the _Coquette_.

Polly shouted again:

"Wyn! Wyn! I'll come back for you----"

"Give me a hand!" cried Wyn, hanging to the rudder. "Polly! you old darling! If you hadn't got here when you did----"