“Don’t say it!” commanded Eline, thus “getting back” at Cora.
“Oh, do steer over there!” begged Bess, as Cora did not seem to be bringing the motor boat quickly enough toward the raft of spars. “We must get to her!”
“I am going to,” answered Cora.
“Oh, do you suppose she can be from the wreck?” asked Belle.
“I think very likely,” spoke Cora.
“Those spars–they are from the ship,” declared Rosalie. “They are broken pieces of the masts, perhaps. Some one must have made a raft before the vessel broke up, and she lashed herself to it. I have often heard my father tell of such things.”
“Oh, do get her, Cora!” exclaimed Belle, clasping her hands.
“Don’t go too close,” warned the lighthouse maid. “Some of those spars have jagged ends, and a bump would mean a hole in your boat, Miss Kimball.”
“Don’t, for mercy’s sake!” voiced Bess, clutching Cora’s arm.
“And don’t you do that to my arm or I can’t steer,” came the retort. “I’ll be careful.”