Carol was giving her considerable trouble, for having just mastered the art of swimming she had become very daring, doing her best to “show off” before the girls. Her companions had promised to keep an eye on her, but Nathalie knew that when they were sporting about in the water they were apt to forget their duty.
Her eyes swept from one group to the other. Ah, the Sport was swimming out to the raft! How well she looked in that red cap, and what a beautiful swimmer she was, so free and graceful in her movements! Hearing a sudden cry, as she thought, Nathalie turned and glanced at Carol. Good! she had stopped her antics of pretending she was sinking. Her eyes again wandered to Edith, why where was she? There was her red cap bobbing on the water, what new trick was she up to now? She had thrown up her arms. Oh, was she screaming? Pshaw, she was just fooling as usual, what a plague she was!
Nathalie strained her eyes, why, yes, she was screaming! she had gone down again! Just a moment, and then as Nathalie saw the red cap bob up again and heard another piercing shriek, she realized that Edith was drowning! Nathalie’s brain spun like a wheel—what should she do—she glanced helplessly around. Where was Helen?
“Edith is drowning!” she tried to shriek, but her voice sounded faint, as if far away. O God! and then she remembered. Up went her bugle and two loud blasts—the danger signal that some one was drowning—rang sharply over the water.
Just a moment, and then with a sudden swirl through the air, Nathalie had leaped into the water, and with long, swift strokes swam towards the spot where she had seen the red cap go down! Ah, she was almost there! As Edith threw up her arms again with another frenzied scream, for help, Nathalie grabbed her under the shoulders. But Edith, with a hysterical cry, threw her arms around her neck. Oh, she was dragging her down!
Nathalie regained control of herself, and was frantically beating back the clutching arms. She had swung her around; she tried to get a firmer grip, but a nameless fear was pinching her heart. She felt her strength was giving out! Then she heard Helen’s voice crying, “Don’t lose your hold, Nathalie, we’re almost there!”
Edith was so heavy; Nathalie tried to tighten her grip; she was more quiet now. Oh, could it be? She heard the purling of water and saw, but dimly, something dark moving towards her. Oh, if they would only hurry? Some one had caught hold of Edith and was dragging—
When Nathalie regained her consciousness it was to hear Mrs. Morrow’s voice crying, “Poor little Blue Robin!” She opened her eyes to see the doctor bending over her while Mrs. Morrow peeped over his shoulder with a cheery smile. “Edith?” she gasped, making an attempt to rise.
“As snug as a bug in a rug,” rejoined the doctor promptly, “and you will be, too, if you will drink this.”
Nathalie meekly obeyed. She was so tired, would she ever get rested? But she did, and a few hours later was half sitting up on her cot supported by pillows, surrounded by a group of sober-faced girls all eagerly listening as she told how it came about. “If she hadn’t gripped me so hard,” she ended as she sank back on the pillows, beginning to feel tired again, “I could have managed.” Then suddenly a queer little smile curved her mouth and drawing Helen down to her she whispered softly, “Helen, do you remember the day Edith ducked us when we were off in the boat, and how I declared I would get even?” Her friend nodded gravely. “Well,” said Nathalie, still with that queer little smile, “I have got one on her, haven’t I?”