After a few minutes they started afresh. They rowed in a most erratic manner, and Ruth was heartily wishing they had never seen the boat, when Dick's prediction proved true; she caught a crab, and lost her oar.
"Oh, dear," she cried, clasping her hands in despair, "whatever shall I do?"
"We can't get it again," Dick told her gloomily, as he watched the oar floating far beyond reach, "and I'm sure I don't know what we're going to do. I can't get the boat ashore!"
"Then we shall drift out to sea!" Ruth exclaimed in a frightened tone, looking wildly around, and noting that the short October afternoon was closing in. "Oh, look at Nero," she continued, "he's running up and down the beach now, and howling louder than ever. Whatever shall we do, Dick?"
"We can't do anything," he answered in tragic accents; "it will be dark soon, and—and—"
His voice faltered, and he turned his face away that Ruth might not see his eyes were misty. He was terribly alarmed, and his companion was no less so. She cautiously stole to his side, and they anxiously scanned the shore in hopes of seeing a human form; but only Nero was in sight, and his howls were becoming more and more indistinct. They were drifting out to sea, for the tide had not yet turned. In the far distance were the sails of a few fishing smacks' but there was no boat they could possibly hail.
"We shall be drowned," Ruth said, beginning to sob. "I—I know we shall be drowned! Oh, it's awful, awful!"
"Don't cry, please don't cry," Dick implored piteously, struggling hard to keep back his own tears. "Perhaps God won't let us be drowned. You know, Ruth, God's here in this boat," he proceeded more bravely, as the thought brought comfort with it, "and we mustn't be afraid."
"But I am afraid, Dick! Don't you see the sun has set, and the light's going? It'll be dark soon!"
"Yes, but the night is the same as the day to God, Ruth. Don't let us be more frightened than we can help."