“They are turning towards shore!” came, a second later, and then it could be seen that the Thistle had turned partly around. But the next instant the vessel ran into a mud shoal and there she stuck.
“Come on, let us get out and help those who are on board!” cried Dick, and started on a run for the college boathouse, located two hundred yards further up the shore.
The alarm was now general, and fully two score of students and several of the faculty, as well as some workmen, were running for the boathouse, to get out the rowboats and other craft usually housed there.
“Stanley, how about your gasolene launch?” questioned Dick, as they raced along the river bank.
“She’s all ready to use,” was the answer. “I had her out a little while early this morning.”
“Then I’ll go out with you in that, if you say so.”
“Sure,” was the ready response.
“Want us?” queried Tom.
“You and Sam better bring another boat,” answered Dick. “The more the better. The Thistle must have quite a crowd on board—if all the Hope students went on that picnic.”
“Grace said about thirty girls were going,” replied Sam. “Oh, if they get burned——”