She heard the other paddles in the lake. Then they ceased to cut the water. On either side of her canoe the two other craft suddenly appeared.
"What if this boat is marked!" she thought. "If it should have some lettering to show it is from the sanitarium!"
That was the first time this had occurred to her. But the canoeists were now actually looking very pleasantly at her—two young men. They seemed too well-mannered to speak, and Dorothy wanted so much to speak with them, now that she felt they had no idea of her predicament.
Finally one said: "We beg your pardon, but might you have a bit of canvas, that you could let us take? We have a small leak in the side of this canoe and the water is coming in."
Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief. Then she looked about her boat—although she knew it was quite empty when she slid it into the water.
"I'm afraid not," she replied. "I never carry anything for such an emergency."
"It's a delightful morning," said the other young man, out of pure civility. "Have you been out long?"
"Oh, no, not very—that is, it does not seem long to me," stammered Dorothy still afraid that she would be caught in some new trap. "I love the water."
"You seem to," agreed the young man with the college cap. "We have been out with a searching party. Have you heard of the strange disappearance of two young girls?"
Dorothy gasped. "Two?" she repeated.