“Where’s Andy?” questioned the young major, looking around.
“I see him,” answered Pepper, and a moment later Andy came up, holding Flossie by the back of her shirt-waist. The girl was partly unconscious.
“Got tangled up in some wild grass on the bottom,” spluttered Andy. “Here, take her,” and he held her up, and soon Flossie was resting on the seats of the rowboat.
By this time several boats were coming up, including the steam tug containing the judge of the coming race.
“They’re safe!” was the cry. And this was re-echoed on all sides.
“Are they—they all right?” asked Rossmore Ford, in a faltering voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank God for that!” murmured the rich man. “Will you bring the rowboat up here?”
“Better lower your mainsail first,” suggested Pepper. This was done, and soon the rowboat was alongside of the yacht, and then the girls were passed up to the deck.
“Oh, dear, what has happened?” murmured Flossie, opening her eyes. She gave a shudder. “I—we went overboard, didn’t we?” And she gazed around in wonder.