Of course, the other does not object; and soon they have changed places.
But Gwen in the stern behaves no better, than when seated amidships. The boat still keeps going astray, the fault now in the steerer.
Soon something more than a crooked course calls the attention of both, for a time engrossing it. They have rounded an abrupt bend, and got into a reach where the river runs with troubled surface and great velocity—so swift there is no need to use oars down stream, while upward ’twill take stronger arms than theirs. Caught in its current, and rapidly, yet smoothly, borne on, for awhile they do not think of this. Only a short while; then the thought comes to them in the shape of a dilemma—Miss Lees being the first to perceive it.
“Gracious goodness!” she exclaims, “what are we to do? We can never row back up this rough water—it runs so strong here!”
“That’s true,” says Gwen, preserving her composure. “I don’t think we could.”
“But what’s to be the upshot? Joseph will be waiting for us, and auntie sure to know all—if we shouldn’t get back in time.”
“That’s true also,” again observes Miss Wynn, assentingly, and with an admirable sang froid, which causes surprise to the companion.
Then succeeds a short interval of silence, broken by an exclamatory phrase of three short words from the lips of Miss Wynn. They are—“I have it!”
“What have you?” joyfully asks Ellen.
“The way to get back—without much trouble; and without disturbing the arrangements we’ve made with old Joe—the least bit.”