From the shore came another boat. For a while she could not tell whether it contained friends or enemies. It was terrible to be forced to wait, absolutely helpless. When she heard the newcomers call encouragingly to Braine she knew then that the brave fight of her sweetheart was going to come to naught. She knew a little about motors. She threw on the power and headed straight toward the rowboat. The men shouted at her, but she did not alter her course. The rowboat had its sides crushed in and the men went piling into the water.
"Jim," she cried.
Norton suddenly flung off Braine and began to swim madly for the motor boat, which Florence had brought about. Even then it was only by the barest luck in the world that Norton managed to catch the gunwale. The rest of it was simple. When they finally reached a haven, Florence, oddly enough, thought of the horse she had left tethered nine miles from the stables. She laughed hysterically.
"I guess he won't die. We can send some one out for him. Now, for heaven's sake, how did you get into this? Where were you? What have you been up to?" with tender bruskness.
"I wanted to do a little detective work of my own," she faltered.
"It looks as if you had done it. You infant! Will you never learn to keep outside this muddle? It's a man's work."
Florence, thoroughly weakened by her long immersion in the water, began to weep silently.
"You poor child. I'm a brute!" And he comforted her.
Later that day, at home, she remembered the blank paper.
"I stole this from one of the men in the cave. He said this blank paper would probably save father."'