“Keep your mouth closed; then you won’t drown,” advised her chum practically, and she began to scramble forward.
The spread sail had strained the canoe very badly. Jessie knew that tiptilted as it was, and wet, it was still full of wind and was tearing at the fastenings of the mast and at the tied rope. When she got to the staff stepped forward, she put her shoulder to it, tugged with both hands, and managed to dislodge the mast.
Down it and the sail came with a crash. Leaving the canvas half in the water and half on the float, Jessie scrambled out over the bow of the canoe. Amy, panting, was just behind her.
“If that wasn’t just the meanest job that was ever done!” groaned the dark girl. “What a state we are in, Jess!”
“You would tie the sheet in a knot when you have been warned a dozen times to keep it in your hand,” complained Jessie.
And that was a pretty strong complaint for Jessie Norwood to make. Hers was a very equable temper, and she was always patient with her chum. But this seemed such a perfectly unreasonable happening. It need not have been.
“If our canoe is utterly ruined, Amy, what shall we do?”
“Maybe Darry and Burd can fix it,” Amy rejoined, but she did not speak with confidence.
They could see how the thwarts had been strained apart from the framework, and the bow of the canoe was crushed in. It was a dreary sight. Jessie Norwood did not believe Darry Drew and his chum would be able to patch the broken craft. And she did not want her mother to know how it had been broken.
The minute following their abrupt landing was all the time they had then to discuss the accident. Tearing down to the float from the bunch of houses came a shrieking crowd of boys and girls ranging from six to sixteen, the bare brown legs of Henrietta Haney flashing in the van. Henrietta did not wear her silk dress and silk stockings “common.”