"All-to-geth-er!" gasped Ruth, as though they were at "tug-of-war" in the Briarwood gymnasium.
The boat moved. Ruth's feet slipped and she scrambled to get a fresh brace for them.
"Now, again!" she cried.
At that moment a great hound came rushing out of the wood upon their trail, raised his red eyes, saw them, and uttered a mournful bay.
"We're caught!" wailed Helen.
"We're nothing of the kind!" returned her friend. "Push again, Helen!"
One more effort and Ruth was ankle deep in the water. The boat floated free!
But before the brave girl could scramble aboard, the hound leaped for her. Helen screamed. That shriek was enough, without the baying of the hound, to bring their enemies to the water's edge.
Ruth Fielding was terrified—of course! But she gave a final push to the boat as the hound grabbed her. Fortunately the beast seized only her skirt. Perhaps he had been taught not to actually worry his prey.
However, the girl was dragged to her knees, and she could not escape. The punt shot out into the lake, and Ruth shouted to her chum: