Matters would have gone badly with them if they had not at this moment met Jack and Kitty Morgan in the Franklins' canoe.
"What's the row?" called Jack.
"Nothing much," said Bronson. "We've sprung a little leak, that's all."
"A little leak! I should think so. My eye! Why, man, you must have a regular hole for the water to come in like that. Where have you been, anyhow? You had better put in here at this little beach and step over into my boat."
"What's the matter with stepping over right where we are? No need of going to shore."
Jack eyed him with curiosity and contempt. He looked so much like Cynthia that Bronson felt withered. He did not care for Cynthia, for he knew that she did not like him.
Jack did not speak at once, but paddled towards the bank. Then he said:
"You won't try stepping from one canoe to another in mid-stream if I have anything to say about it."
The change was safely accomplished, and they proceeded down the river towing the injured boat, the carpet and cushions having been transferred with the passengers. Relieved of the weight it did not fill as rapidly, and they at last reached the picnic-ground.
Bronson was mortified at coming back in such ignominious plight, but he made the best of it.