“This lake turns up real waves, doesn’t it?” she remarked when a sheet of spray swept their deck.
“You bet,” answered Gar, blinking to clear his eyes of the mist.
“I hope it isn’t going to storm,” Nancy added, apprehensively.
“Not right away, at any rate,” answered Dell. “And the islands aren’t far away. Better swing left, Gar. Here comes the steamer from the Weirs.”
The swell from the big steamer struck the Whitecap presently, giving its occupants such a merry ride, that only their present upset state of mind prevented them from keenly enjoying it. Even the excursionists, who waved frantically at them, received scant attention in return, for there was no denying their anxiety. They must find Rosa, and they must take her away from Orilla Rigney, no matter what else happened.
Purposely Dell Durand avoided criticizing Rosa to Nancy, but this consideration could not entirely prevent Nancy from expressing something of her own confused opinion.
“You never saw anything like it,” she recalled. “No sooner had Rosa gotten into the boat than Orilla seemed to pounce upon that engine—”
“Like a beast upon its prey,” finished Gar, as a boy would when such a chance for such an expression was so obviously offered.
“She should not be allowed to come over to our side of the lake at all,” went on Dell. “She has no business there and our docks are private property.”
“But the lake isn’t,” her brother reminded her.