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!”