“‘Drowning!’” she repeated. “Why, Jess Norwood, you know that you couldn’t drown those Dogtown kids. And if that isn’t some of them—Monty Shannon, and the Costello twins, and the rest of them—I’m much mistaken.”
“But see those barrels and tubs and what-all!” gasped her more serious friend. “Look there! It’s Henrietta!”
The fleet of strange barges that Jessie had first spied included, it seemed, almost every sort of craft that could be improvised. A rainwater barrel led the procession of “boats,” and Montmorency Shannon was in that, paddling with some kind of paddle that he wielded with no little skill.
There were two wooden washtubs in which the Costello twins voyaged. One was much lower in the water than the other, giving evidence of having shipped more water than its mate. In a water-trough that had been filched from somebody’s barnyard was little Henrietta and Charlie Foley.
“They will be overboard!” exclaimed Jessie, anxiously. “Drive ahead, Amy—do!”
The wind was blowing directly in their faces and from the direction of the Dogtown landing, where the flotilla had evidently embarked. The tubs spun around and around, the half-barrel in which Monty Shannon sat tried to perform the same gyrations, but Henrietta and the Foley boy blundered ahead. It was plain to Jessie’s mind that the reckless children could not have sailed in the other direction had they wished to do so.
“What do you come out here for?” she shrieked when the canoe drew near.
“Oh, Miss Jessie, we are going to the Carter place,” sang out Henrietta.
“But the Carter place is down the lake, not up!” exclaimed the exasperated Jessie.
“Yes. But the wind shifted,” said Henrietta.