“Mebbe de boat’ll float in to shore down furder. Mister Uncle Ben, dere’s a finger of land runs out way down, you see!”
“But there is also a mill-race just the other side of that finger of land, and the current to the mill runs mighty fast about that jutting bank. If the boat doesn’t come in or isn’t caught before it reaches that place it is impossible to say what may be the consequences. An old water-wheel turns the mill and the race feeds the wheel. The child is in danger out there with no means of helping herself and we are here with no way to reach her,” said Uncle Ben, anxiously.
“What’s all the excitement—anyone fall overboard?” called Jinks, coming up and asking his question laughingly.
“Little Prunel is afloat in that boat—see her down the lake there?” replied Mete, who was standing beside Uncle Ben.
“Great Scott! And all of you standing around here doing nothing?” cried Jinks, scornfully, running away to the squad of Police who were still umpiring the last game of ball.
“Hey there! Dutchy—did you bring your dog?” yelled Jinks, when he had covered half the distance between the two groups.
“Yeh! Why?” came back the answer.
“What’s Jinks going to do with the dog?” asked Uncle Ben, starting to run after the boy, and thus starting all the other boys on the ground running after him. Inside of a minute the long line of boys running, looked like a thriller in a moving-picture play.
“Leave it to Jinks to think up some way of rescue!” called Ned and Mete, panting beside Uncle Ben.
“Remember that fire we went to when we were on the Canal trip?” added Don, who came just too late to do all the talking to Jinks.