Now and then she dipped and the spume flew high, drenching Polly. The boatman's daughter was not dressed for this rough work, for she was hatless and wore merely a blouse and old skirt for outside garments. She had pulled off her shoes and stockings while she fished and had not had time to put them on again. So the flying spray wet her through. She dodged occasionally to protect her eyes from the spoondrift which slatted so sharply across the deck and into the cockpit. The water gathered in the bottom of the old boat and was soon ankle-deep. But Polly knew the craft was tight and that this water could be bailed out again when she had time. Just now her mind and gaze were fixed mainly upon the round, bobbing objects ahead. For some minutes, although the catboat was traveling about as fast as Polly had ever sailed, save in a power boat, the girl could not be sure whether the swamped voyagers were girls or boys. It might be two of the Busters, from Gannet Island, for all she knew. She had made up her mind that the victims of the accident were from one camp or the other. There were no other campers as yet on the shore at this end of the lake. Then Polly realized that the heads belonged to girls. She could see the braids floating out behind. And she knew that they were fighting for their lives. They swam near together; once one of them raised up breast high in the water, as though looking shoreward. But neither turned back to see if help was coming from behind. With both hands engaged with sheet and tiller Polly could not make a megaphone to carry her voice; but several times she shouted as loud as she could: "Ahoy! Hold on! I'm coming!" Her voice seemed flung right back into her face--drowned by the slatting spray. How viciously that water stung! The _Coquette_ was traveling at racing speed; but would she be in time? How long could those two girls bear up in the choppy sea? One of the heads suddenly disappeared. Polly shrieked; but she could do nothing to aid. The spray filled her eyes again and, when she had shaken them free, Polly saw that the other swimmer--the stronger one--had gotten her comrade above the surface once more. Indeed, this one was swimming on her back and holding up the girl who had gone under. How brave she was! The sun shone clear upon the two in the water and Polly recognized Wynifred Mallory. "Wyn! Wynnie! Hold to her! Hold up!" cried the boatman's daughter. "I'll help you!" But she was still so far away--it seemed as though the catboat never _would_ come within hailing distance. But before she turned over in the water to swim with Bessie's hand upon her shoulder, the captain of the Go-Ahead Club beheld the catboat rushing down upon them. She could only wave a beckoning hand. She could not cry out. Wyn was well-nigh breathless, and Bessie's only hope was in her. The captain of the canoe club had to save her strength.