The Radio Girls on the program

The young folks who had spent the evening at the old Carter place all got away at about the same time. But once out on the lake, they scattered. By far the larger number of boats were going down the lake to the landing nearer New Melford. The Roselawn crowd headed for the Norwood landing were not sorry for this, for they sooner escaped the sharp tongue of Belle Ringold.

The moon was fast disappearing beyond the wooded hills and a haze was being drawn over the sky. Darry Drew wisely suggested heading immediately for the upper end of the lake and home.

“It will be as dark as a stack of black cats in half an hour, girls. And there’s a wind coming up.”

“Heavy weather in the offing—aye, aye, Skipper,” growled out Burd. “We deep water sailors of the Marigold cannot be mistaken in weather changes.”

“See how reckless those kids are!” exclaimed Amy suddenly. “They will have that canoe over.”

She referred to the Dogtown children. Jessie had been watching Charlie Foley and Montmorency Shannon paddling. Now she urged:

“Can’t we keep near them until they get to the Dogtown landing, Darry? If they should be swamped!”

“Never do to let little Hen drown,” agreed Darry, chuckling. “She is some kid, I’ll say! Maybe we would better tow them to Dogtown.”

But the smaller boys would not hear to that when it was suggested. Henrietta declared:

“If they tip us over, or anything like that, Mrs. Foley will fix ’em, Miss Jessie. She told Charlie to look out for us when we started. And, then, Spotted Snake, the witch, will bring ’em bad luck if the boys don’t behave good,” and she laughed eerily.

Nevertheless, because of Jessie’s insistence, the launch followed behind the canoe until the landing was in sight. Therefore the quartette of friends from Roselawn became separated from the other boats headed in the direction of Bonwit Boulevard.

“O-oo!” cried Amy suddenly. “It’s getting dark.” Then she began to sing the old song about being “Afraid to go Home in the Dark” and Burd came in with what Darry called a shaky second part.

“Nothing out here will ever trouble us with you two singing that way,” he observed. “You’d scare the loons.”

“Better light your lantern, Darry, hadn’t you?” Amy broke off to ask.

“I don’t think anybody will run into us,” her brother said. “But I hope every other kind of craft on the lake carries a light.” Nevertheless, he followed his sister’s advice and lighted his lantern.

The moon had dropped out of sight. The sky had grown thick with mist so that not a star sparkled. There was a certain glimmer of light shimmering upon the surface of the water, but this illumination was not sufficient to exhibit more than the faintest outlines of objects at their level.

“Go easy, Darry,” advised Burd, in a low voice from the bow. “I declare I can’t see as far as I can reach.”

“You know that is a wood ahead,” said Amy. “It’s Jocklin Point. When we get around that we shall have a clear way to our landing. Do you hear the other folks, Jessie?”

All Jessie could hear was the chugging of the launch. The Water Thrush was not a fast boat, but it was seaworthy and roomy. The Roselawn young people had enjoyed many pleasant parties in it. And Darry was so good a mechanician that their parents never worried when the young folks were out on the lake in the Water Thrush.

With the moon gone the towering trees on shore cast a perfectly black shadow upon the lake out from Jocklin Point. Soon they could see the clearway beyond the shadow, and Darry increased their speed.

“It’s getting close to midnight. We must get home,” he said. “Anything in the way, Burd?”

His chum turned his head to look back into the lighted cockpit. “Plenty of water,” he began, and just then the launch ran, with a crash, head on upon something.

“What is it? Oh, what is it?” shrieked Amy.

“Oh, Darry!” gasped her chum, and for an instant she seized Darry’s arm.

“Now what have you done, you big chump?” demanded the latter of Burd Alling. “You’ve run us into the shore.”

“I haven’t been steering the old tub,” growled out Burd. “I told you I couldn’t see.”

“I believe you. You must be stone blind——”

“Oh! Oh!” cried Amy again. “My feet are wet. It—it’s sinking!”

“Don’t be foolish, Amy,” begged her brother. “Squealing won’t help us.”

“Well, just the same, I’m not going to stay down there and get wet,” and she clambered upon the decked-over portion of the launch.

“We never hit the shore, Darry,” declared Burd, from up forward.

“What is it, then?”

“She is sinking!” interrupted Amy, a second time. “Darry Drew, if you have brought us out here on this lake to drown us, papa and mamma will never forgive you!”

Jessie began to giggle nervously at this. But she scrambled up on the deck-house after her chum. The water was running fast into the bottom of the launch.

Something loomed up beside the shaking boat. Darry sprang to the rail and leaned over to examine the black object.

“A log!” he cried. “No wonder she’s leaking. Bet we started every seam in her bow.”

“Never mind talking about it,” Burd advised. “Get on. If we don’t reach the landing——”

“O-ooh! We’re going down!” shrieked Amy.

The launch did give a sudden cant to starboard. When it righted, the standing room was knee deep in water. Darry tried to start the motor again and could not. It was fouled, and they were actually helpless.

“There’s a boathook, Burd!” Darry cried. “Grab it and hook on to that log.”

“That log has done us harm enough already,” complained his sister. “Let it go. Oh!”

“Stop your squealing, Amy!” commanded her brother. “You girls get ready to crawl over on that log.”

“On the log?” cried Jessie in wonder.

“One thing sure, that log won’t sink,” said Darry confidently. “But the old Water Thrush is on her way. Anything you want in the cabin, girls?”

“There isn’t a bite of lunch left,” declared the irrepressible Amy. “What Burd didn’t eat, little Hen did. Oh!”

“Step over there, girls!” ordered Darry.

He and Burd held the side of the launch close to the rough, wet bark of the big log. It was with some trepidation that Jessie stepped from the dipping rail to the top of the log. Amy shrank from the attempt, for she saw her chum suddenly fall on her knees and almost dive into the black water beyond her refuge.

“Oh! We’ll all be drowned!” Amy cried.

“Don’t be a dunce, Sis,” begged her brother. “If Jess can do it, you can. Be a sport.”

“Nev—never let—it—be said that I wasn’t a sport!” gasped Amy. “Here I come, Jess!”

The launch was down so low that the water began to slip over the rail into the cockpit. Darry went forward and dropped over the anchor. Burd began to snicker.

“What’s the matter with you?” his chum demanded.

“Oh, my eye!” gasped Burd Alling. “Dropping the anchor! Believe me, boy, this launch will be right here—on the bottom—without any iron down. Woof! Here we go!”

He leaped for the log, missed it by half a foot, and splashed into the water with a frightened cry.

At this Amy gave forth a yell that, one might have thought, could be heard from one end of the lake to the other. Jessie clutched the log tighter and gasped. Darry grabbed the boathook and caught the hook into the waistband of his chum’s trousers as he went down.

Sputtering and shouting, Burd was drawn to the surface again. The girls added their screams to the young fellow’s objections. Darry leaped to the log and managed to keep his chum above the surface. The latter, between his sputtering and objections to such rough treatment, scrambled up the rough bark and finally hung over the log, panting.

“Why—why didn’t you let me alone?” he managed finally to gasp out. “I can swim.”

“Couldn’t take chances of losing you, Burd,” giggled Amy.

“Oh!” cried Jessie. “The launch has sunk!”

She spoke truly. The battered boat had disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. The log rolled slightly. The girls both squealed again, for they were now astride the log and their feet dipped into the lake.

“Oh, dear me!” groaned Jessie Norwood. “This is an awfully wet time. How shall we ever get home, Darry?”

“Well, there is one thing sure,” declared Amy’s brother in deep disgust. “We shan’t wade ashore. For right about where we are now Lake Monenset is, they say, a quarter of a mile deep.”