"No, you're not. You're going out," and Mrs. Davenport sprang to her feet in sudden terror.
"Why, mamma, I'm swimming as hard as ever I can."
In fact, Beth was trying her very best to reach shore, but notwithstanding her desperate efforts, she was slowly but surely drifting out to sea. One of those treacherous undertows that abound on the Florida coast had her in its deadly power.
Mark Charlesworth, one of the boys, rushed to the side of Beth's mother.
"Oh, Mrs. Davenport, she'll surely drown unless some one saves her. A boy was drowned just that way last winter."
Mrs. Davenport was almost frenzied. She could not swim and she knew that personally she could not rescue her child. She looked in vain for assistance.
The other children had come from the water, and rushed frantically up and down the beach wringing their hands in terror.
Beth realized that her position was critical, and she struck out with such desperate energy that soon she felt her strength failing her. Terror seized upon her so that she feared she could not keep up another instant.
"Mamma," she screamed, "I'm sinking."
Mrs. Davenport's heart grew leaden. Was there no hope for her child? Must she stand helpless and see her drown? No, no, there must be some way of saving her. She would not despair.