“Careful!” cautioned Polly. “You may hurt yourself on whatever is down there.”
“I’ll look out,” returned Wyn, again filling her ears with cotton. She slipped off the skirt of her bathing suit, too, so as to have more freedom. Then she poised herself for a moment on the decked-over part of the sailboat–a slim, lithe figure in the semi-darkness–and gradually bent over with her arms outstretched to part the water.
As she dived forward she thought she heard a quick exclamation from Polly; but Wyn believed it to be an encouraging cry. At least, she gave it no attention as she clove the water and went down, down, down into the depths of the lake.
She opened her eyes, but, of course, saw nothing but a great, shadowy mass below her. Toward this mass she swam eagerly; the lake seemed much deeper than it had by daylight.
Struggling against the uplift of the water, she beat her way down into the depths for more than a minute. That was a goodly length of time for the first submersion. And she did not reach the bottom, nor find any object like the thing she had struck against some hours before.
It was necessary for her to rise. As she turned over, a luminous spot appeared over her head, and toward this spot she sprang. With aching chest she reached the surface, and sprang breast high out of the water–some yards from the catboat. There was a strong current here.
“Polly!” she gasped.
“Sh!” hissed her comrade’s voice, in warning.
Surprised, Wyn obeyed the warning. Causing scarcely a ripple in the water, she paddled to the boat. There she clung to the rail and listened. She could not see Polly.
“Dunno where they went to in that cat, Eb,” growled a hoarse voice out of the darkness.