When the storm had abated somewhat they prepared for the plunge. The first faint streaks of dawn were showing in the east. Gladys crept out on the sill and then shrank back. The surface of the water seemed miles below her. "I can't do it, Nyoda," she panted. "Yes, you can," said Nyoda, patting her on the shoulder. "You aren't going to lose your nerve at this stage of the game, are you? 'Screw your courage to the sticking point,' We have our fate in our own hands now. 'Who hesitates is lost.'" "But the water is so far away," shuddered Gladys. "What of that?" said Nyoda. "It's perfectly safe to jump. The water is very deep along the shore here. Think, just one leap and then we're out of this!" Gladys still hung back. "You go first," she pleaded. Nyoda made a motion to go and then stopped. "No," she said firmly, "I'd rather you went first. You might be afraid to follow me afterward. Brace up; remember you're a Winnebago!" This had its effect and without allowing herself to stop to think Gladys tossed her bundle of clothes out of the window and, closing her eyes, dropped from the sill. There was a wild moment of suspense as she sank downward through the gloom, and then she struck the water and it rolled over her head. It was icy cold and for a minute she felt numb. Then the waves parted over her head and she felt the wind blowing against her face. A great splash beside her terrified her for an instant, and then she remembered that it was Nyoda jumping in after her. In a moment a head came up nearby and Nyoda inquired calmly how she enjoyed the bathing. "It's g-r-r-e-a-t," said Gladys with chattering teeth. "Now for a little pleasure swim," said Nyoda, striking out. While they were swimming away the storm broke the second time; the thunder sounded in their ears like cannon and the vivid lightning flashes lit up the shore for miles around. By its light they could see that they were nearing one of the long stone piers. Climbing up on this, they rested until they had their breath back again, although it was a rather exciting rest, for the waves were going high over the pier and threatened to wash them off every moment. The shore line along here was peculiarly rugged and forbidding. Instead of a beach, high cliffs rose perpendicularly out of deep water and afforded nowhere a landing place. The girls swam slowly and easily, fearing to spend their strength before they could reach shallow water, often turning over to float and gain a few moments' rest in this way. The waves were very rough and tossed them about a great deal, but the wind was west and they were swimming toward the east, and as the natural current of the lake was eastward toward Niagara, their progress was helped rather than retarded by the force of the water.