“Well, I’m wet through, too,” answered Nelson, who was in the bow, “but not with perspiration. You’d better pull your sweater on or you’ll catch cold.”
“Guess I will,” said Dan. “This breeze is pretty chilly on a fellow’s back. Where is that sweater of mine? I see it. Hold steady and I’ll get it.”
Dan shipped his paddle, arose cautiously to his feet, and took a step toward the middle of the canoe. At that instant a tiny squall of wind struck them, he lost his balance, and the next thing Nelson knew he was struggling up through yards and yards of dark water. When his head was finally above the surface and he had shaken the water from his eyes he stared bewilderedly about him. Fifty feet away the overturned canoe was drifting heavily before the wind. About him here and there such of the luggage as had not sunk at once was bobbing about from wave to wave. Near by, Dan’s head with the red hair plastered to it was visible. Every moment the canoe was drifting farther away, and Nelson realized that their strait was already desperate and was growing more so with every instant of delay.
“Come on, Dan!” he shouted. “Make for the canoe; we’ll pick up the stuff afterward.”
He heard some sort of a response from the other and then struck out fiercely for the craft. If he could get on top of it it might be possible to attract the attention of Bob and Tom to their plight. It was a hard chase, and when his hand finally touched the wet surface of the canoe he was pretty well tuckered. Throwing one arm across the bottom he managed to get his head some two feet above the water and could catch glimpses now and then above the waves of the other craft well to the right and apparently a long distance away. Then he turned to shout to Dan, turned and saw only the empty water. He dashed the drops from his eyes with his free hand and looked again, searching the hollows between the racing waves. Once he thought he saw for an instant Dan’s head above the surface, but it was gone again instantly.
“Dan!” he shouted in terror. “Dan!”
There was no sound but the ceaseless splashing of the waves. With an awful fear clutching at his heart he threw himself away from the canoe and plunged back in the teeth of the gale.