“Wet again!” laughed Jerry, grimly. “Never mind.”
“Blumpo, you had better bail out the boat,” said Harry. He was as wet as the rest, but did not grumble.
While the homeless youth bailed out the water with a dipper they had brought along, Jerry and Harry pulled at the oars with all their remaining strength. Another mile was passed. But now it was blowing a regular hurricane and no mistake.
“We’ll go to the bottom, suah!” groaned Blumpo dismally.
“Not much!” shouted Jerry. “Keep on bailing.” “Look! look!” yelled Harry at that moment, and pointed over to the centre of the lake.
There, beating up in the teeth of the wind in the most hap-hazard manner, was the Cutwater. Evidently Clarence Conant was nearly paralyzed with fear, for he had almost lost control of the craft.
“Those ladies on board are worse off than we,” went on Harry.
“That’s so,” replied Jerry.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth when there came an extra puff of wind. It sent the Cutwater almost over on her side, and threw a monstrous wave into the row-boat.
The smaller craft could not stand the wind and waves, and with a lurch, she sank down and went over, dumping all three of the youths into the angry lake.