Steadily the little boat was sinking into the waters of Lake Huron. The boys now were wet to their waists and it was manifest that they would not much longer be able to remain in the little skiff.
“Maybe she won’t sink,” called Fred. “Perhaps we can keep afloat if we hang to her after she settles down.”
Still John made no response. Not very long before he had been the one to try to cheer his companion. He it was who had declared that they had never learned to go backward and that they must be Go Ahead Boys to the end.
“There’s no use, Jack,” called Fred. “We can’t stay here any longer. Get your shoes off, if you can.”
With difficulty each boy removed his shoes and unmindful of his sweater and their other belongings prepared to leap into the lake.
“You take the bow, Jack, and I’ll hang to the stern,” called Fred. “If we each put only one hand on the boat, she may stay afloat long enough to keep us from sinking. Don’t lose your head. Just remember that we aren’t through this fight yet.”
Both boys were expert swimmers, although their skill now was of slight avail. It was impossible for them to see the shore of the island from which they had departed and only the low-lying trails of dark smoke indicated what might be on the water far to the west.
Together the boys leaped into the water. The boat partly righted itself when it was relieved of its burden, but it was so full of water that only a few inches below the gunwale appeared above the surface.
“Come on, Jack,” called Fred as the boys arose to the surface, “let’s turn this tub over so that it will be bottom upward. Maybe it will stay afloat then.”
Fred was peering anxiously at his friend, fearful that his courage had gone and that he would be compelled to exert himself to his utmost in order to force John to any action.