It was Cora who said this as the motor boat drew close to the floating logs.
“A girl!” echoed Belle.
“Yes; can’t you see her long hair?”
All the girls were standing up–even Cora, who had to bend over to maintain her grip on the steering wheel. They all peered anxiously toward the floating object.
Certainly that was a figure on it–a figure of a girl–sea-drenched and washed over by each succeeding wave.
“She’s tied fast to that raft!” cried Bess.
“And her head is up on a sort of box–that keeps her mouth out of the water,” added Eline. “Oh, but she looks—”
“Don’t say it!” commanded Cora, sharply, and Eline stopped.
“Oh, if only the boys were here!” breathed Bess. “They could help us–help her,” and she motioned to the limp figure on the raft.
“We don’t need the boys!” exclaimed Cora, sharply. “We can make the rescue ourselves. That is if—”