“Now we must paddle.” Heedless of the icy water, the girl dropped upon one knee, seized a narrow slab of wood and began a vigorous dip-dip that in time, it seemed, must take them somewhere.
Following her example, Red, on the opposite side, did his bit.
Under this treatment the raft behaved admirably. Keeping in view only the shore they had left, they paddled for a good half hour when, with a shock that all but sent them splashing into the water, they struck a hard object that gave out a hollow sound.
“Shore?” There was relief in Red’s tone.
“No shore.” The girl stood up. Her head struck something and she bounced down again.
“Thunder and guns! What now?” Red turned about to stare with all his eyes. The thing they had bumped into was a hydroplane, the very one that had carried them to this deserted spot.
“Oh!” The girl seized his arm. “Can—can you fly it?” Hope and fear were mingled in her tone.
“I—I’m sorry,” Red stammered. “To-night I took my first airplane journey.
“And I can’t say I wanted to come,” he added as a witty afterthought.
“But say!” he exclaimed suddenly. “You just hang on here a bit. I—I’ll be right back.”