“Such miserable luck!” she muttered. “Of all times to be lost!”
Penny’s gaze remained absently upon the hyacinth bed. The plants slowly were drifting westward. At first their movement signified nothing to the girl. Then suddenly, she sprang to her feet.
Excitedly she shook Mrs. Jones by the arm. “The channel!” she cried. “I can see it now! If we move fast, we still may get out of the swamp before night!”
CHAPTER
23
LOST IN THE HYACINTHS
Mrs. Jones shaded her eyes from the slanting rays of the low-hung sun to gaze for a long moment at the almost motionless hyacinth bed blanketing the water.
“Right ye are, Penelope!” she exclaimed jubilantly. “The channel’s plain to see now! Help me git to the boat, and we’ll be out o’ this tangle.”
Once in the skiff, the widow again seized the paddle.
“We gotta inch our way along fer a little,” she explained. “If we don’t foller the drift o’ the bed, we’ll be lost agin and that hain’t smart.”
Steadily the widow shoved the little boat through the water plants, seldom hesitating in choice of the channel.
“I got the feel o’ it agin!” she declared happily. “We’ll be out o’ this in no time!”