"Here you are, Kit. Now you've been across the Hudson. It's not often a person has a chance to have her wishes granted so quickly."
"Isn't it wonderful!" gasped Kit. "I've never had such a gorgeous time in my life."
The girls stretched themselves out on the sand for a few minutes.
"Doesn't Lynnwood look beautiful over there? And just see how very romantic the Manor is from here."
"I think we'd better start back at once," exclaimed Bet suddenly. "It's getting cloudy over that way again, and as we've had a thunder storm every day for a week, we may have another this afternoon."
They lost no time in getting into the boat, for already there was a distant peal of thunder. It was miles and miles away, but Bet didn't intend to take chances. Her hand worked in a steady rhythm that sent the boat ahead like a flat stone skimming the water.
But as they reached the middle of the river, the wind struck them suddenly and with violence. It seemed to the girls as if the canoe had been lifted and turned over. Kit gave a little cry of terror, but Bet's look of reproach was sufficient. At a signal from Bet, the girl slid to the bottom of the boat, and remained still.
The storm was upon them. A fierce wind shook the little craft as if a hand had clutched it.
Bet kept the bow of the boat head-on to the heavy rollers that threatened to capsize it. The quiet river had suddenly become a regular sea, choppy and vicious, and Bet strained at the paddle, her face white and tense.
Kit crouched in the bottom of the boat. She was anxious to help but did not know what to do. During a little lull she cried: "Oh, Bet, can't I help? You must be tired. Let me try to paddle, I think I can."