“We might’s well give up, then,” says I, “and save ourselves all this work.”
“Can you p-p-paddle a little harder?” he asked.
“Not much,” says I.
“For as long as you can,” says he, “p-paddle as hard as you can. See if we can’t g-gain a little.”
It seemed like my back would break and my arms come out by the roots, but I worked just a little harder, and so did Mark. I looked back and it did seem as if we were some farther away from the other boat than we were.
“Keep it up,” says I.
We did, and we gained. At last we gained so much we turned a bend out of their sight. This didn’t mean we were far away. I should say it didn’t. It couldn’t have been two hundred feet at the very most. The turn was sharp, and like a letter “S.” The part we turned into was like the lower loop of the letter, and right at the narrowest point were some tall weeds and bushes that grew right down to the shore.
“L-looks as if there was a stream went in t-there,” Mark stuttered.
We didn’t have time to plan or figure. Mark was the sort to go slow and plan and plot when there was time for it, but when he had to decide quick he could do it, and quicker than anybody else I ever knew.
“T-try it,” he snapped, and swung the canoe toward the weeds.