The boat stood still in the middle of the stream for perhaps half an hour, and then both became conscious of a faint chugging far down the stream. “Some one coming,” said Mabel, “maybe they will give us a lift.”
“Perhaps it is Jones,” said Shirley uneasily.
“Dear me! I hope not!” sighed Mabel.
“So do I. We have had enough trouble for one day.”
They continued to gaze down stream.
A few minutes later a second launch came into view around the bend in the creek. The girls were able to make out several figures. It was apparent, also, that the men in the boat had seen them.
One stood up, and a faint hail came across the water.
“It must be Jones,” said Mabel. “And he has seen us, too. What shall we do?”
“We’ll try and get ashore,” said Shirley quietly.
In the far end of the boat she had seen a pair of oars. She got these out hurriedly, and set to work with a will. The Sybil moved shoreward, slowly at first, and then more swiftly as Shirley settled herself to her task.