“Say-ee!” Dave stared down at the water before the prow. “We’ve shifted. Current carried us in. I wonder—”
He did not have long to wonder. As Rufus set the motor roaring, the boat’s propeller stirred up a great, white mass of foam, but the boat moved never an inch.
“Grounded!” Dave groaned. “Stuck between two rocks. We’ll never get off with our own power.”
“How terrible!” Florence was almost in tears. “We’ve tried to help, and now this! The fire is coming! The boat—”
“What’s up?” Captain Frey shouted from the shore.
“Aground,” Dave called back.
“Wait!” The captain sprang toward the slope where the campers were resting.
A moment later, Florence felt her throat tighten as she watched the weary boys swarming shoreward. The hose was carried to land, and this time the pump did double duty. The boat rocked with the throbbing of its motors. With a heart that at all times seemed to stand still, the girl saw the bravest of the boys in blue overalls force the nozzle of the hose almost upon the onrushing fire.
Was the stream of water large enough? Would the fire be stopped before it was too late? For a time it seemed that, with the hose alone, the fire might be conquered. Then, of a sudden, a fresh and stronger gale sweeping across the bay sent bright flames leaping along the spruce trees and into the sky.
“We’ll lose,” Florence choked.