“And after you have been overboard you’ll want something to protect you from the night air,” she said.
“Oh, Polly! do you suppose I can find the place again?” cried Wyn, infinitely more eager than the boatman’s daughter.
“You say it’s right off the boys’ float? Well! we can look, I guess.”
“Feel, you mean,” laughed Wyn. “For I couldn’t see anything down there even by daylight–it was so deep.”
“All right. We’ll look with our hands. I shall know if it’s a boat, Wyn, once I reach it.”
“And I hope it is” gasped Wyn. “Not alone for your sake, Polly. Why, if it is the Bright Eyes, the Go-Aheads will own a motor boat their very own selves. Won’t that be fine?”
But Polly was too busy getting the catboat ready to answer. The Coquette was moored just a little way off the landing, and the two girls went out to her in Wyn’s canoe.
There was a lantern in her cuddy and Polly lit it. Then they slipped the buoyed moorings and spread a little canvas. There was quite a breeze, and it was fair for their course to Gannet Island. Soon the catboat was laying over a bit, and the foam was streaking away behind them in a broad wake.
“What a lovely night!” sighed Wyn. “And it will be the very gladdest night I ever saw if that thing I hit proves to be the Bright Eyes.”
Polly had glanced behind them frequently. “Don’t you hear anything?” she asked finally.