Katy likewise saw and acted even more quickly than Ernest. She was very light and swift, and she darted past Sherm and Chicken Little like a flash, reaching the boat twenty seconds ahead. "Come on, Ernest!" She slipped the rope deftly from the post, not waiting to untie it, and, pushing off, leaped lightly into the row boat. Ernest needed no second invitation. Katy motioned to him to run farther along the bank and paddled the skiff in close enough for him to climb on board. Sherm and Chicken Little, dazed by the suddenness of this maneuver, were still some feet away. "Katy Halford, you're a pretty one to go back on your own side that way," Jane scolded. "Katy, I didn't think it of you--after asking me to come and help you, too!" Sherm was also reproachful. "I didn't ask you, Sherman Dart. It was Chicken Little." "Of course," Ernest encouraged. "Katy's been on my side all the time. Haven't you, Katy?" Katy nodded, laughing. The Captain, who had followed the young people at a more sober gait, smiled at this outcome of the skirmish. "When a woman will she will, you may depend upon it," he quoted. "The trouble is to find out what she wills." Ernest, secure in the rower's seat, could afford to be generous. He brought the boat in and took them all on board. Gertie had been a quiet spectator of the frolic. She had little taste for boisterous fun. Captain Clarke handed her in with a flourish. "Gertie is my partner." Sherm had his revenge. Ernest rowed energetically--so energetically that he was tired enough to be willing to resign the oars before a half hour had gone by. Under the circumstances he did not quite like to ask Sherm to relieve him. Sherm seemed to be oblivious to the fact that it required energy to propel the boat. He was strumming an imaginary banjo as an accompaniment to the familiar melodies the girls were softly singing, occasionally joining in himself. Katy did not fail to observe that Ernest dropped one of his oars to regard a blister ruefully, and she did her best to help. "Say, Ernest, let me try one oar. I believe I could row with you if you would take shorter strokes." Ernest hadn't much faith in Katy's skill, but the experiment gave him an excuse to rest a minute. He moved over and handed her the oar with a little smile of gratitude. "You're a trump, Katy," he whispered.