“Thank you,” said the girl, quietly.
The man went about his business. The girl immediately descended the stairs to the lower, or freight, deck. Beth, hesitating whether she should speak to her or not, followed unobserved.
Nobody seemed to be about. The way was open aft to the outer deck behind the paddle-wheels. The tall girl went swiftly to the port side, slid open one of the doors, and stepped out upon the misty, open deck. Beth went out by another door. There was nobody aft but herself and that other girl—not another soul.
The girl did not see Beth and the latter hesitated again. What should she say to her? How accost her?
And then—the discovery set Beth’s heart to beating madly—she saw that the strange girl was leaning far over the rail of this lower deck, so close below which the black water hissed and gurgled. In a moment she had a knee upon the flat top of the rail, flinging up her tight skirts with an impatient kick to free her limbs of their entanglement.
She was teetering—almost head downward—on the rail, about—it seemed—to plunge into the swift current of the river!
CHAPTER VII
CYNTHIA FOGG
Beth had learned something about vigorous play at basket-ball under the direction of the instructor in physical culture at the Hudsonvale high school. Besides, she had not played with Marcus and the other boys—even with Larry in years gone by—without learning what is meant by a low tackle.
So, when she jumped for the girl who seemed about to throw herself into the river from the stern of the Water Wagtail, she “tackled low.” She seized the reckless girl about her knees, locking her legs tightly in her arms.
“You can’t! I sha’n’t let you!” Beth gasped, as the other struggled. “Oh! what a wicked thing you are doing!”