“Sorry!” grunted Sim.
“Fine bunch of sailors you are. You can’t paddle against this wind. Look where we’re going!” Arden was indicating the shore line. The houseboat was only a few hundred feet away now, in a little cove, down the bay from Terry’s house, the distance being about a half mile.
“We’re going right toward it. What’ll we do?” Sim wailed. “We’ll hit it in a minute!”
“Oh, hush, Sim! We can’t help it. Stick out the oar, Terry, so we don’t bump too hard,” Arden ordered.
Terry tried her best, but the oar slipped to one side, and the boat rammed the houseboat with a little bump that, to the girls, sounded like a crash.
Instantly there was a ferocious barking, and the girls could hear a call: “Tania! Tania!” and then a rush of words uttered in a soothing tone.
They sat quite still, an embarrassed little group, while their lazy old craft hugged the side of the houseboat.
“Sim Westover,” Arden hissed, “I could cheerfully duck you, clothes and all. What will the man think?”
“But, Arden——” began Sim, and then stopped as she heard footsteps on the upper deck of the boat near them.
Dimitri Uzlov had come on deck and was gazing down at them silently. They looked back, uncertain how to explain their presence. Arden spoke: