He waded into the water, but Ralph, splashing after him, caught him by his shirt.
“It’s deep out there—the beach goes down,” Ralph explained. “You can’t catch it, Sunny Boy.”
“Daddy’s coming down to-day and I wanted to show it to him,” Sunny Boy almost sobbed. “I just have to get it, Ralph. I know! I’ll row after it. Come on, we’ll take this boat.”
Sunny Boy began to untie the rope that fastened one of the rowboats.
“Don’t you go, Ralph,” ordered his little sister. “You know Mother wouldn’t like it. Sunny Boy, you won’t catch your boat, an’ maybe you’ll be drowned.”
“Won’t neither,” retorted Sunny Boy ungraciously, working at the stiff rope. “Nobody gets drowned in rowboats—so there!”
The rope untied, he scrambled into the boat.
Ralph would probably have gone with him, but Ellen began to cry and repeated that she knew their mother wouldn’t like it, and so he stayed with her.
To his relief, Sunny Boy found that he would not need the oars which were in the bottom of the boat, for the tide was carrying his boat just as it had carried out The Billow. The oars were so heavy that Sunny Boy never could have handled them.
“I’ll catch it in a minute,” Sunny Boy told himself, as his boat drifted gently along, “then Ellen will be sorry she was such a cry-baby.”