"I've got her," Dave announced, though his voice was hoarse and panting.
"Hurrah!" came from Dan, as he saw the girl's head show above the surface. Dalzell, hauling on the sheet, ran the boat in close. Dave grasped at the rail on the weather quarter, while Dan bent over him, hauling hard. And so Ella Wright was dragged unconscious into the boat.
"I'd stay here in the water with you, Tom," explained Dave, "but I've got to be in the boat to do my share of handling her."
"Th-th-that's all r-r-r-r-right," chattered poor Foss, "I'm d-d-d-doing f-f-f-fine here—c-c-c-couldn't h-help in the b-b-b-boat"
While lying to, it had taken some fine management on the part of the midshipmen to keep the sailboat from capsizing. And now, on this rough, wave-strewn river, they had to tack back against a nearly head wind.
"Look at the crowd on the clubhouse float," gasped Dan as soon as the
Naval chums had gotten their craft under way.
"Good thing," muttered Darrin. "We'll need plenty of help."
"I wonder how the crowd got wind of the thing in such short time?"
"You forget," nudged Darrin, "that there's a telephone in the clubhouse. Laura and Belle are not given to losing their heads. Undoubtedly they've been 'phoning to Gridley."
"Then they can't have overlooked the need of physicians," ventured Dan, "especially as Laura is the daughter of one."