But Edna Black did not join the racers. She had never before tried “shooting the chutes” and was infatuated with the sport. Time after time she climbed the little ladder and as quickly slid down the curved, inclined plank into the water again. Dorothy and Tavia were watching her from the shore, calling to her in merry nonsense and joking about her sliding propensities.
“Going down!” called Tavia as Edna took one more slide.
They waited—but she did not come up!
Miss Higley, too, was watching for the young diver’s re-appearance.
Ten—twenty—she counted, but Edna did not come up. Then, from the very top of the slide, where she had taken her position some time before to better watch all the girls, Miss Higley dove into the water after Edna, cleaving the fifteen feet of distance from the surface like a flash.
Dorothy and Tavia stood breathless—watching for either Miss Higley or Edna to come to the top.
It seemed ages—yes, it was too long to stay under water. What had happened to Miss Higley? Where was Edna?
An instant later, Dorothy and Tavia—without exchanging a word—kicked off their slippers and were in the water! There was no time to call to the girls farther out. Not a swimmer was near enough to offer help!
Their light summer clothing seemed to make little difference to these two country girls, who had learned to swim in Dalton pond, and, in a few seconds, both had reached the spot where Edna and the teacher had disappeared.
Tavia was the first to dive, and, in a few seconds she came up with Edna, white and unconscious, in her arms.