“Why! it will sink any minute and leave us sitting here in the water!” groaned Jennie, again.
“Take off one of your shoes—careful, now,” commanded Nancy. “We can bail with them,” putting into practice her own advice.
They managed each to remove one of the low, rubber-soled shoes they wore. But these took up so small an amount of water, although they bailed vigorously, that Jennie began to chuckle:
“Might as well try to dip the sea out with a pail, Nance! What a ridiculous position we’re in!”
But it was really more serious than that. It was fast growing dark, and no matter how loudly they shouted, their voices would not reach to the landing. The wind was against them.
On the other side of Clinton River, opposite the scene of their accident, were open fields and woods. Few people lived within sight; indeed, only two twinkling lights from house windows could they now see on that side, and both of those were far away.
“Do you suppose we could slip overboard without swamping the boat, and so lighten it?” demanded Nancy.
“What good would that do?”
“Then it wouldn’t sink and we could cling to the gunwales. It would keep us afloat.”
“Oh, that plug’s come out!” gasped Jennie.