“A nawsty beach!” announced the other young man.
“But my Lorna! She is drowning!” bellowed the father.
“Lorna! Lorna!” wailed the girls and the youths shivered and tried to make up their minds to go in after her but the waves seemed to have redoubled in force and fury. They rose up like walls and broke on the shore as though determined to smash anything that dared approach them.
“A rope! A rope! Get a rope!” commanded Mr. Breckenridge. But nobody seemed to know where to get a rope, so nobody got one. “Will none of you go in and get my girl? Cowards!”
He beat the trembling young men on their cringing backs and tried to shove them into the water.
“My God! My God! Why did I never learn to swim?”
The shrieks of the distracted friends of Lorna had at last attracted some of the people from the regular bathing beach and the crowd began to surge towards the scene of the disaster.
In the meantime Jane with sure eye and steady stroke had cut under the combing breakers and reached the spot where last she had seen the drowning girl. She trod water for a moment and peered through the clear green waves. Ah, there was a flash of the pretty crimson cap and handkerchief! Without a moment’s hesitation, Jane dived and came up bearing a limp trophy.
“I reckon it’s a good thing she’s lost consciousness,” thought Jane. “She can’t struggle and I have some chance of getting in with her.”